Her face clouded. "I--don't know. He's been awfully busy. He's not very well. That attack last winter--he's never shaken it off, quite. Sometimes--I'm afraid! Oh, Roger--if anything should happen...." Suddenly she burst into wholly unexpected tears. Roger, comforting her, experienced a vague satisfaction, for which he knew he should be ashamed--but was not. Molly was such a sturdy soul, so self-sufficient and self-contained, it delighted him to know that she could cry ... just like any ordinary protectible woman. Upstairs, in his study, the Judge had seated himself before his desk, the tips of his long white fingers clasped together. For a long time he remained immobile, staring blankly at the wall before him. The single green-shaded lamp at his elbow cast grotesque shadows at his infrequent movements. Finally he sighed, as if he were very tired, and put out the light. II When the maid went up with the Judge's coffee next morning, she found him already fully dressed. "Tell O'Neil I'll have the car at once," he said quietly. "But Miss Wolcott, sir, she's...." "At once, please." In relaying the order to the chauffeur the maid volunteered the interesting information that she had left the Judge swallowing his breakfast with unprecedented haste, and that the newspaper had not been unfolded. The chauffeur, having designs of a serious nature upon her, was obliged to conceal his natural repugnance to haste, disassociated from a motor: but he consoled himself with the other part of her message. It was not unpleasant to discover in the lady of one's choice such evidence of keen perception. He went to his task whistling. III As Roger came down to breakfast he fancied he heard the front door slam. Judith was just leaving the library. "Having callers?" he asked cheerfully. "No," she said shortly. He noticed suddenly that her face seemed bloodless. Fired with a vague suspicion that matters were not as they should be, he strolled over to the window. "Whose car is that outside? Say--that looks for all the world like the Judge. What's he doing out at this hour d'ye suppose?" "I'm sure I can't guess." Judith's voice seemed curiously dry and husky. She was gazing sightlessly straight before her. Roger ached to voice the questions which rose in his mind, but the expression on his sister's face deterred him. He contented himself with studying her narrowly. It was Judith who broke the silence first. "Roger," she said suddenly, "I want you to arrange at once with a detective agency to find Mr. Good." "Oh, see here, sis," he protested. "That's foolish, you know. He'll come back--give him time." "I can wait no longer," said Judith coldly. "Please do as I ask--this morning."