“The old Indian seeress has covered up her tracks completely. I cannot get the slightest clew to her whereabouts or her identity, and I almost believe that some disguised person played the part of fortune teller, and may be laughing in secret at our fruitless search,” he exclaimed. While the young man stared at him in startled wonder, he added: “I have made up my mind that we can do nothing more until Miss Vane, the actress, is able to speak for herself. Doubtless she might tell us something that would furnish a clew. What do you think?” “It may be so, but I doubt it. She is fast regaining strength, and I hope may soon be interviewed on the subject, although the physician interdicts such conversation now,” Charley answered. “In that case I will wait before I take any further steps. If she cannot furnish any further clew it will be useless for me to go on, as the murderer or murderess, as the case may be, is securely entrenched behind a disguise we cannot penetrate,” reluctantly owned the detective. Charley Bonair, after a moment’s meditation, agreed with him that it must be so. “One more question,” said the baffled sleuth: “Do you know of any malignant enemy Miss Vane can have?” In his masculine obtuseness, Charley quickly answered: “No, I do not know that she has an enemy in the world.” The detective mused a moment, then exclaimed: “Sometimes love can be as cruel as hate. I wonder if the beautiful young girl had a rejected lover?” He started when he was answered in the affirmative. “Ah, perhaps I am getting on the right track now! Where is this man? Who is he?” “He is the manager of the company in which Miss Vane was the leading lady. His name is Willis Weston, and he may be seen every night on the boards of the Olympia Theater.” “Ah-h, then I have seen him already! A clever actor and a handsome man, on or off the stage. Perhaps this may give me a clew. I shall look into his past, and in the meantime, sir, as soon as the young lady can safely give me an interview, please let me know, for surely she may be able to throw some light on the darkness of this mysterious case.” He bowed himself out, and Charley was about to leave the room also when he was startled by the appearance of Miss Montague’s maid, Suzette. She curtsied, and said: “My mistress begins to feel a little better, sir, and would be pleased to see you for a while in her boudoir.” “I will come at once,” he replied, following the maid in his eagerness to be off with the old love, but saying to himself humorously: “What fools men are, anyway! They would be lots better off if they left the women alone and remained bachelors all their lives, but instead of that they must always be getting into hot water over the pretty dears. We are weak as children, where woman is concerned, that’s the truth. Now, I wonder what is up with Rosalind? I pray Heaven she does not treat me to a fit of hysterics.” Suzette opened a door into a shaded rose-hung boudoir, and disappeared.