Everybody laughed at this suggestion, and Jimmy said he had never heard of publishers sending communications to their clients at night. “It’s probably a message from Mr. Chester. I hope the Germans haven’t sunk another ship.” Just then Jerry and Paul appeared, and Kitty inquired, eagerly: “Is anything the matter?” “I don’t know,” said Jerry. “They’ve all gone into the library, and shut the door. I heard Mrs. Chester talking on the ’phone, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. We’ve decided not to act the rest of the word till they come out. Here comes Molly now. Is it all right, Molly? Shall we go on?” But one glance at Molly’s pale, startled face was sufficient to convince them all that it was not all right. Without answering Jerry’s question, she hurried across the piazza and seized Kitty by the arm. “Something dreadful has happened,” she gasped. “Gretel is lost.” “Lost!” cried several voices, in a tone of incredulous amazement. And Ada added, impatiently: “What on earth are you talking about, Molly?” “It’s true,” said Molly, in a low, frightened voice. “She went out early this afternoon, and hasn’t come back yet. Nobody knows where she is. Her brother has been telephoning everywhere, and now Father has called up here to find out if any of us heard her say what she intended doing. Geraldine says she asked Gretel to go and see her mother, but they’ve telephoned the Barlows, and they don’t know anything about her. She hasn’t been there at all. Come in, Kitty. Geraldine’s in an awful state.” The two girls hurried away, followed by Jerry, and the others sat looking at each other in silent astonishment. It seemed as if a pall had suddenly fallen on the merry little party. “It’s the most awful thing I ever heard in my life!” declared Ada’s friend, Betty Ross, in a tone of mingled horror and excitement. “Why, it’s after nine o’clock. Think of a girl staying out till this time and not letting her family know where she is. She’s German, isn’t she?” “Her father was,” said Ada, “but her brother is an American. He is doing Government work in Washington, and Gretel was to go home with him on to-night’s train. Oh, I hope nothing dreadful has happened to her.” And Ada--who was really not a hard-hearted girl--looked very much distressed. “Perhaps she’s a spy, and gone off to tell the Germans things she’s found out here in New London.” The words made every one jump. They were uttered in Archie Davenport’s shrill, aggressive voice, and that objectionable small boy--who had been a rather bored spectator of the charades--now made himself heard for the first time. “Hush, Archie; for shame!” cried his cousin, indignantly. But Archie was not to be easily put down. “Things like that do happen,” he maintained stoutly. “I was reading a book the other day, all about a girl spy, and she wasn’t any older than this one, either. So why----”