"Planned to the minute. We had her; seven of us; doors locked, and all that. No weeping, no wailing; I could not understand then, but I do now. It's in the blood. Hargreave was as peaceful as a St. Bernard dog till you cornered him, and then he was a lion. Oh, the devil! Slipped out of our fingers like an eel. And across the street, Jones in a racer! I never paid any particular attention to Jones, but from now on I shall. The girl may or may not know where the money is, but Jones does, Jones does! Two men shall watch. Felton on the street and Orloff from the windows of the deserted house. With opera glasses he will be able to take note of all that happens in the house during the day. He will be able to see the girl's room. And that's the important point. It was a good plan, little woman; and it would have been plain sailing if only we had remembered that the girl was Hargreave's daughter. Be very careful hereafter when you call on her. A night like this will have made her suspicious of every one. Our hope lies with you. Anything on your mind?" "Yes. Why not insert a personal in the _Herald_?" She drew some writing paper toward her and scribbled a few words. He read: "Florence--the hiding place is discovered. Remove it to a more secret spot at once. S.H."--He laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid that will never do." [Illustration: HE READ ... FLORENCE ... THE HIDING-PLACE IS DISCOVERED] "If she reads it, Jones will. The man with the opera glasses may see something. There's a chance Jones might become worried." "Well, we'll give it a chance." It was midnight when he made his departure. As he stepped into the street, he glanced about cautiously. On the corner he saw a policeman swinging his night stick. Otherwise the street was deserted. Braine proceeded jauntily down the street. And yet, from the darkened doors of the house across the way, the figure of a man emerged and stood contemplating the windows of the Perigoff apartment. Suddenly the lights went out. The watcher made no effort to follow Braine. The knowledge he was after did not necessitate any such procedure. Of course, Florence read the "personal." She took the newspaper at once to Jones, who smiled grimly. "You see, I trust you." "And so long as you continue to trust me no harm will befall you. You were left in my care by your father. I am to guard you at the expense of my life. Last night's affair was a miracle. The next time you will not find it so easy to escape." Nor did she. "There will be no next time," gravely. "But I am going to ask you a direct question. Is my father alive?" The butler's brow puckered. "I have promised to say nothing, one way or the other." She laughed. "Why do you laugh?" "I laugh because if he were dead there would be no earthly reason for your not saying so at once. But I hate money, the name of it, the sound of it, the sight of it. It is at the bottom of all wars and crimes. I despise it!"