“Miss Fordyce’s brother--Duncan Fordyce,” was the calm reply, and Joe, released suddenly, collapsed on his couch. CHAPTER II MISSING “YOU are, then, absolutely positive that Miss Langdon called up Mr. Barnard the last thing before leaving this room yesterday afternoon?” questioned Rear Admiral Lawrence, with such quiet persistence that pretty Nurse Allen opened her eyes in wonder. “I cannot swear that it was the last thing Miss Langdon did before leaving here,” she answered, somewhat dryly. “I only know I found her at the telephone when I came in to ring up Dr. McLane, and I overheard her address the person she was speaking to over the wire as ‘Chichester,’ and tell him it was important that she see him.” “Did Miss Langdon appear agitated?” Nurse Allen shook her head. “Her manner seemed to be the same as usual; but she looked pale and tired.” “Was Miss Langdon holding this photograph in her hand?” As he spoke the Admiral fumbled among the papers on his desk and knocked to the floor the picture he was seeking. Muttering an ejaculation, he stooped to get it, but Nurse Allen was before him and, her color heightened by her hasty exertion, picked up the photograph. She barely glanced at the kodak likeness of Chichester Barnard, but she read the message scrawled across the bottom: “Love’s young dream--à la bonne heure! C. B.,” before replacing the photograph on the desk. “It may have been in Miss Langdon’s hand,” she said indifferently. “I was only here for a second, as Sam brought me word that Dr. McLane had come and I hurried back to Mrs. Lawrence. I really can give you no information about the photograph.” “Oh, no matter; I found it lying by the telephone. I suppose----” the Admiral broke off abstractedly and drummed with nervous fingers on the back of the chair against which he was leaning. In the pause Nurse Allen permitted her eyes to wander downward to the photograph lying face upward near her, and a ghost of a smile touched her mobile lips. Clever as she was in her chosen profession, she was not, in this instance, a discriminating observer, and utterly failed to connect the scrawled message on the photograph with the faint mockery traceable in Chichester Barnard’s expressive eyes. The snap-shot was a good likeness, and Barnard’s fine physique and handsome features were reproduced without flattery. “Can you tell me how long Miss Langdon remained alone in this room?” asked Admiral Lawrence suddenly arousing himself. “No, sir, I have no idea. I did not come here again, until you sent for me this morning.” The Admiral stepped over to the window and raised the Holland shade until the room was flooded with sunlight. “I won’t detain you longer,” he announced, turning back to the young nurse. “You will oblige me greatly by making no mention of our conversation.”