Crushed beneath the weight of his secret knowledge of Mary Sturtevant’s seemingly close connection with the infamous band of extortioners and murderers who were literally terrorizing the city, Forrester fell into a dull routine that held him back from making any progress in the case. That a girl of her delicate refinement, superior intelligence and appealing femininity should be involved with these men whose wanton butcheries were becoming more and more appalling, was a bewildering conundrum. Had anyone simply stated the case to Forrester, he would have ridiculed such a suggestion, yet step by step facts had accumulated rapidly from the day he first met her at the oak tree, culminating in the astounding situation at the dance. The facts were so glaringly against her then that he hardly dared review them. At the time he put her handkerchief in his pocket he had had two objects in view; to save her from the possible consequences of the discovery of so definite a clue, and later to confront her with it and force a confession. He had a wild idea that once he knew the whole story he could persuade her to go away with him where the baleful hold these men apparently had on her could not follow. Remembering the coincidence of her leaving the room with young Melville, her absence when it was Forrester’s turn to dance with her, and her untruthful statement regarding her parting with Melville, Forrester saw clearly that her activities in the affair were more than passive. Everything pointed to her as a daring accomplice. Forrester decided that as she had repulsed all his efforts to induce her to leave, it would be better for him to stay away from her entirely and let her work out her destiny in her own wilful way. For this reason he refused all invitations, knowing that the wide acquaintance which her letters of introduction had gained for her would inevitably result in his meeting the girl at practically every place he went. In spite of loud protests from Josephine, he had declined on this night to attend one of the largest affairs of the season and was sitting in the library with an open book laid face-down across his knee. After a short chat earlier in the evening, Green had retired to his station across the lawn and Forrester attempted to read. The printed words made little or no impression on his perturbed mind and at length he dropped the book. For over two hours he sat staring out through the open French windows, wholly lost in melancholy thoughts. Suddenly Forrester was conscious that someone was looking at him through the open window. He started up in alarm just as Prentice strolled into the room. "Hello!" greeted Prentice. "Did I startle you?" "Rather," answered Forrester, as he dropped back into his chair. "How the deuce did you get in?" Prentice raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That’s a strange question," he declared. "I just walked in, of course. Why do you look so astonished?"