He had fallen asleep staring at that magic ceiling that had a way of falling silently. He awoke at dawn, still staring at that ceiling. To his vast surprise, he found it now fully twenty feet above his head. "Was that way when I went to bed," he assured himself. "Must have dreamed it--must--" He broke short off to listen with all his ears. In a clear, distinct whisper had come a greeting: "Good morning, Johnny Thompson!" "Good--good morning," he faltered. He was conscious of a feeling that he was not heard. In this he was right. "We are glad you are back in the city, Johnny. You will tell your friend Drew Lane that we will soon have a definite message for him--one that has to do with his present mission. We will whisper it to you some day at dawn. That is your room. You must keep it. No harm will befall you there. And now, may your day be a busy and profitable one." The whisper ended. We might say that, though Johnny failed to notice it at that time, there was on the far side of his room a circular mirror or reflector, such as we have seen in Grace Krowl's room, and that his window was open toward the east. "A good day to you." Grace Krowl, the girl from Kansas, recalled these words, whispered to her "down a beam of light" many times during the trying hours of that day. "Whispers," she repeated to herself, "whispers at dawn. What does it mean? And this whisperer? Is it a man or a woman? Could one tell by the quality of tone?" The Whisperer had given her little intimation of his purpose. She had been assured that the purpose was honorable and kind. She had been requested to leave her room just as it was. This request had caused her to look at the strange oval reflector on the wall. At times she thought of telling her uncle all about it. "But no," she decided in the end, "this shall be my own small secret. What harm can come from a whisper? The Whisperer said that he would return. Well then, let him!" With that, for the time, she set the matter aside. After a hasty breakfast served by her uncle's aged housekeeper, she went down into the "store." "Look!" Her uncle pointed to a number of trunks standing on end just inside the door. "Yesterday was express auction day. It comes always on Tuesday. I have bought these trunks. What is there in them? How should I know? Probably wrags." Nicholas Fischer was very German in his speech. "But you will be surprised." His faded eyes brightened. "We have very swell customers on Wednesday. They come from the north side and from out by the University. They are curious. They want to see what they can buy cheap. And they buy, right from the trunks. You shall see. "You will be very helpful," he went on. "You are young. They will like a bright face. You shall wait on them. You will know them by their fine clothes, fur coats, all that. And I--" He looked over his cheap garments. "I shall wait on the poor ones, the ones who buy a few towels or some very poor dishes.