“I intended to look out for the girl, but she disappeared without letting me know where she was going. What could I do?” The lawyer was studying his face very carefully in the glass. “My face is a sight. It will be weeks before that eye is fit to be seen.” Jeff turned away and left him. He walked to his rooms and found his uncle waiting for him. Robert Farnum had sold out his interests in Arkansas and returned to Verden with the intention of buying a small mill in the vicinity. Meanwhile he had the apartment next to the one used by his nephew. “Seen anything of James lately?” he inquired as they started down the street to dinner. “Yes. I saw him to-day. He's leaving town for a week or so.” “On business, I suppose. He didn't mention it when I saw him Wednesday.” “It's a matter that came up suddenly, I understand.” The father agreed proudly. There were moments when he had doubts of James, but he always stifled them by remembering what a splendid success he was. “Probably something nobody else could attend to but him.” “Exactly.” “It's amazing how that boy gets along. His firm has the cream of the corporation business of Verden. I never saw anything like it.” The younger man assented, rather wearily. Somehow to-night he did not feel like sounding the praises of James. His uncle's kindly gaze rested on him. “Tired, boy?” “I think I am a little. I'll be all right after we've had something to eat.” CHAPTER 22 But when your arms are full of girl and fluff You hide your nerve behind a yard of grin; You'd spit into a bulldog's face, or bluff A flock of dragons with a safety pin. Life's a slow skate, but love's the dopey glim That puts a brewery horse in racing trim. --Wallace Irwin. CANARIES SING FOR THE HERO Part 1 James Farnum had been back in Verden twenty-four hours. A few little scars still decorated his handsome visage, but he explained them away with the story of a motor car accident. Just now he was walking to the bank, and he had spoken his piece five times in a distance of three blocks. From experience he was getting letter perfect as to the details. Even the idiotic joke about the clutch seemed now a necessary part of the recital. It was just as he was crossing Powers that a motor car whirled around the corner and down upon a man descending from a street car. The chauffeur honked wildly and rammed the brakes home. Simultaneously James leaped, flinging his weight upon the man standing dazed in the path of the automobile. The two went down together, and for a moment Farnum knew only a crash of the senses. He was helped to his feet. Voices, distant and detached, asked whether he was hurt. Blood trickled into his eyes from a cut in the head. It came to him oddly enough that his story about the motor car accident would now be true. A slender figure in gray slipped swiftly past him and knelt beside the still shape lying on the asphalt. “Bring water, Roberts!”