"I _will_ have a look in," he thought, determinedly, and glancing swiftly about, he saw a tree tall enough and near enough to the wall for his purpose. Quick and light as a panther, he was up among the leafy branches in a second. He had chosen well; for below him, clear to view, were the lawns and garden of the queer old house. Just beneath, to the left of the tree he had chosen, were the two women whose voices he had heard. One was dressed in the crisp white of a nurse. The other Peter could not see well, for she was in a wheel chair, the back of which was toward the wall. He could hear the voices a little more distinctly now, though the words were still indistinguishable. The nurse's voice had the usual cheerful professional ring, the other spoke in a high, thin, "society" drawl. Both voices dimmed as the women moved slowly away across the lawn. "Nothing doing," thought Peter to himself, and immediately losing interest in the couple who had been so near him his quick eyes roamed farther afield. On the lawns and about the garden, gay with flowers, several other figures moved. They were mostly in couples, a nurse, and with her another woman, some walking about and some being wheeled in chairs. At some distance from the rest one woman walked alone, a slender figure dressed in black. She walked swiftly, with long, even, purposeful steps. She was opposite the house and moving away from Peter when he first saw her. The instant he caught sight of her there was no one else in all the grounds for Peter. His eyes followed her every movement. She reached the shrubbery which closed the view on the opposite side of the lawn. Peter held his breath. Would she enter the shrubbery and disappear from sight? No. She had turned, and was coming slowly toward him. When the dark figure again reached the house, Peter had another bad moment, but, without pause, like one who paces a deck for exercise, the woman rapidly advanced. Nearer and nearer she came. Now she skirted the end of a flower bed and was on the lawn just beneath Peter's tree. In his excitement, Peter's foot slipped a little, and a small, dead branch broke with a sharp snap. The woman looked up--and Peter knew--knew without shadow of doubt, that he was looking into the face of the woman he had so long and so earnestly sought--the woman who called herself--Anne Blake. CHAPTER XXVI THE WOMAN SHULTZE The hours which followed Peter's abrupt and unexpected departure from Fennimore Park passed long and heavily for Donald Morris. He waited for nearly twenty-four hours, hoping to get a wire, and all the while, though he was physically better for the change, his mind chafed at his distance from the scene of action.