Sammy Hall was bitterly sorry that he had missed getting any information from the blonde about the beautiful girl he had seen with her that night at the station. The beautiful white face and closed eyes of the young girl haunted him with strange persistency. And after his accidental _rencontre_ on the street with the insolent blonde he felt more apprehensive than ever. "I wish I knew where she lived: I would find out more about her," he thought; and fell to watching for the bright, steel-blue eyes and golden hair every day. He was rewarded for his efforts when one day he saw her at the trimming counter buying some gold passementerie from Tessie Mays. Sammy Hall waited till she had sailed out of the store, then went across to the young salesgirl. "It's that woman--the one that carried off the girl that night. I saw her give you her address. What is it?" he queried, excitedly. As much excited as himself, Tessie gave it to him, and he began to set his wits to work to find out the mystery of that night. To Kathleen's indignation and dismay, Fedora had kept her a close prisoner in the shabby little garret chamber ever since that night--now five days ago--when she had been brought there. To quiet the complaints of the girl, Fedora told her that she dare not let her go outside the house, because her aunt's emissaries were searching for her everywhere, and that, if found, she would be arrested and taken back to the asylum. "You must remain quietly hidden here until the search blows over," she said; and no entreaties could move her jailer's heart; there was always a plausible excuse; but Kathleen, looking into the flippant, insolent face, began to distrust the woman. "She hates me--hates me because Ralph Chainey said he loved me," she thought, uneasily; and she grew frightened in the miserable little garret room in which she was kept a prisoner, seeing no one but Fedora, who brought her food with her own hands--food which tasted palatable enough, but which seemed only to sap the young girl's strength. For with each day Kathleen grew weaker and weaker. At first she had been wont to pace the chamber restlessly for hours. Now her limbs grew weary; her brain seemed to reel. She rested in the chair, then upon the bed, and her burning brain was full of the thought of Ralph Chainey's treachery. "I loved him so, I loved him so--yet he was wicked, false and cruel beyond all men!" she sobbed; and the knowledge was killing to her. She thought that now, at last, she was going mad, like poor Daisy Lynn, over a lover's falsity. She did not know that it was death, not madness, that was approaching; but the food brought her by Fedora was drugged, so that in a short time it must cause her death if she kept on taking it. She did not dream what a terrible interest the woman had in her death, and that she had decided that Kathleen Carew must never go out of that house alive.