“Mr. Trask wants to marry her, but I hardly think his suit will succeed. The lady must decide, of course, but I have reason to hope—” “Gee, Mr. Lockwood, ’course she’ll take you,” Fibsy informed him, “now, let’s you and me get busy to find out Miss Mystery’s mystery. You ought to know it, if you’re going to marry her—and too, you can’t believe there’s anything that can’t stand the light.” “What can it be?” Lockwood asked, helplessly. “How can a young girl like that have a real secret that so pervades and surrounds her whole life that she will give no hint of it? Who is she? What is she? Why is she here? I don’t believe she came here merely to sketch in water colors.” “No,” agreed Stone. “If that were all, why the mystery about her home and family? I understand she has given several contradictory statements as to where she really lives.” “She has,” assented Lockwood. “But may it not be just a twist of her humorous nature? I assure you she is roguishly inclined—” “No; it isn’t a joke,” Fibsy said, frowning at the thought. “She’s got a real secret, a mystery that means a whole lot to her,—and prob’ly to other people. Well, F. Stone, I guess it’s up to me to go out and seek her people.” He sighed deeply. “I hate to leave the seat of war, but I gotta do it. Nobody else could ever ferret out the antecedents and general family doings of Miss Mystery but Yours Truly. And this is no idle boast. I’m going out for the goods and I’ll fetch home the bacon.” He looked glum at the prospect, for it looked like no easy or simple matter that he proposed to undertake. “You see,” he went on, “that girl is stubborn—my, but she’s stubborn. You’ll have a handful, Mr. Lockwood. But if so be’s you’re willing to face the revelations, I’ll go and dig ’em up.” “Where do you think you’ll go, Terence?” asked Stone. “To California, F. S., of course. Didn’t that telegram come from there? All I’ve got to do is to find ‘A’ and the ‘Carl’ that she ‘annexed’ and there’s your mystery of the young lady solved. But the death of the Doctor—that’s another thing.” “Do you really mean this?” Lockwood said, staring at Fibsy. “How can you find a needle in a haystack, like that?” “I can’t—but I’ve gotta.” “But it’s so much simpler to get the information from Miss Austin herself.” “You call that simple!” Fibsy looked at him. “Well, it isn’t. It’s easier to go to Mars, I should say, than to get any real information out of that little scrap of waywardness.” “No, nothing can be learned from her,” said Stone. “Then, shall I be off?” asked Fibsy. “Wait twenty-four hours, my lad, and then if we’re no further along, I suppose you’ll have to go. Nogi must be found.” “I’m glad Mr. Trask called you in, Mr. Stone,” Lockwood said, slowly, “but I do hope you won’t associate any thought of Miss Austin with the crime. She could no more commit crime than a small kitten could.”