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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Crimson Thread, by Roy J. Snell
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Crimson Thread
+       An Adventure Story for Girls
+
+
+Author: Roy J. Snell
+
+
+
+Release Date: January 24, 2013  [eBook #41909]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIMSON THREAD***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Adventure Stories for Girls
+
+THE CRIMSON THREAD
+
+by
+
+ROY J. SNELL
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Reilly & Lee Co.
+Chicago
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+Copyright, 1925
+by
+The Reilly & Lee Co.
+All Rights Reserved
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                       PAGE
+      I Two Hours Before Midnight                                  7
+     II Crimson with a Strand of Purple                           23
+    III A New Mystery                                             36
+     IV The Picture Girl                                          52
+      V "Come and Find Me"                                        67
+     VI The Iron Ring                                             80
+    VII Cordie's Mad Flight                                       93
+   VIII The Diamond-Set Iron Ring                                109
+     IX Her Double                                               136
+      X Cordie's Strange Ride                                    153
+     XI As Seen from the Stairway                                167
+    XII Silver Gray Treasure                                     175
+   XIII Lucile's Dream                                           181
+    XIV The Newspaper Picture                                    187
+     XV "With Contents, If Any"                                  192
+    XVI A Great Day                                              205
+   XVII An Icy Plunge                                            215
+  XVIII The Mystery Lady's New Role                              229
+    XIX Meg Wields a Belaying Pin                                234
+     XX The Great Moment                                         246
+    XXI The Man in Gray                                          254
+   XXII The Finish                                               263
+  XXIII Meg's Secret                                             271
+   XXIV Three Questions                                          277
+    XXV What the Brown Bag Held                                  294
+
+
+
+
+                           THE CRIMSON THREAD
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I
+                       TWO HOURS BEFORE MIDNIGHT
+
+
+Starting back with a suppressed exclamation of surprise on her lips,
+Lucile Tucker stared in mystification and amazement. What was this
+ghost-like apparition that had appeared at the entrance to the long dark
+passage-way? A young woman's face, a face of beauty and refinement,
+surrounded by a perfect circle of white. In the almost complete darkness
+of the place, that was all Lucile could see. And such a place for such a
+face--the far corner of the third floor of one of the largest department
+stores in the world. At that very moment, from somewhere out of the
+darkness, came the slow, deep, chiming notes of a great clock telling off
+the hour of ten. Two hours before midnight! And she, Lucile, was for a
+moment alone; or at least up to this moment she had thought herself
+alone.
+
+What was she to make of the face? True, it was on the level with the top
+of the wrapper's desk. That, at least, was encouraging.
+
+"That white is a fox skin, the collar to some dark garment that blends
+completely with the shadows," Lucile told herself reassuringly.
+
+At that moment a startling question sent her shrinking farther into the
+shadows. "If she's a real person and not a spectre, what is she doing
+here? Here, of all places, at the hour of ten!"
+
+That was puzzling. What had this lady been doing in that narrow passage?
+She could not be a member of the working force of the store. No sales
+person would come to work in such a superb garment as this person wore.
+Although Lucile had been employed in the book department for but ten
+days, she had seen all those who worked here and was certain enough that
+no such remarkably beautiful face could have escaped her notice.
+
+"She--why she might be anything," Lucile told herself. "A--thief--a
+shoplifter. Perhaps she stole that very cape--or whatever it is she
+wears. Perhaps--"
+
+Suddenly her heart gave a leap. Footsteps were approaching. The next
+instant she saw a second face appear in the narrow line of light which
+the street lights cast through the window.
+
+"Laurie Seymour," she breathed.
+
+Laurie was the new man in the department. He had been working at the
+boys' and girls' books for only three days, yet Lucile liked him, liked
+him tremendously. He was so friendly, even-tempered and different. And he
+seemed a trifle mysterious.
+
+"Mysterious," she mused, "perhaps here's the mystery answered."
+
+It certainly did seem so, for after the apparition in white had whispered
+a word or two, Laurie looked at her strangely for a second, drew from his
+pocket a slip of paper and handing it to her, quickly vanished into the
+shadows. The next instant the apparition vanished, too. Again Lucile
+found herself alone in the far corner of the mammoth store, surrounded by
+darkness.
+
+Perhaps you have been wondering what Lucile and Laurie were doing in the
+great store at this hour. Since the doors are closed at six o'clock, you
+have no doubt thought of the entire place as being shrouded in darkness
+and utterly deserted. These were the days of the great rush of sales that
+comes before Christmas. That evening eight thousand books had been
+trucked into the department to be stowed away on or under tables and
+shelves. Twenty sales persons had been given "pass outs"; which meant
+that they might pass _in_ at seven o'clock and work until ten. They had
+worked like beavers; making ready for the rush that would come on the
+morrow.
+
+Now the great bulk of the work had been done. More than half of the
+workers had chirped a cheery "Good-night" and had found their way down a
+marble stairway to the ground floor and the street. Lucile had been sent
+by "Rennie," the head sales-lady of juveniles, to this dark section for
+an armful of books. Here in this dark corner a part of Laurie's true
+character had, uninvited, come to her.
+
+"He gave her his pass-out," she said to herself. "With that she can leave
+the building with her stolen goods."
+
+For a second, as she thought of this, she contemplated following the
+mystery woman and bringing her back.
+
+"But that," she told herself, "would be dangerous. That passage is a
+hundred feet long and only four feet wide; then it turns sharply and goes
+two hundred feet farther. She may carry a knife; such women do. In that
+place she could murder me and no one would know until morning.
+
+"Of course," she reflected, "there's the other end of the passage where
+it comes out at the offices. She must leave the passage there if she does
+not come back this way. I might call the watchmen. They could catch her.
+It's a perfect trap; she's like a mouse in a boot. But then--"
+
+She paused in her mad rush of thought. What proof had she that this
+beautiful creature was a thief? What indeed? And what right had she to
+spy upon her and upon Laurie? Truth was, she had none at all. She was a
+sales person, not a detective. Her job was that of putting books on
+shelves and tables and selling them; her immediate task that of taking an
+armful of books to Rennie. Her simple and sole duty lay just there. Then,
+too, in the short time she had known Laurie Seymour, she had come to like
+him.
+
+"He might be innocent of any real wrong," she reasoned. "If I go
+blundering into things I may be serving a friend badly indeed."
+
+"But," she was brought up short by a sudden thought, "if he gave her his
+pass-out, how's he to leave the building?"
+
+How indeed? In a great store such as this, where hundreds of thousands of
+dollars worth of rare jewels and much silver and gold are kept and where
+princely furs and priceless old paintings are on display, it is necessary
+to maintain a constant vigil against thieves. "Pass-outs" are given to
+all employees who enter or leave the store after closing hours. It was
+true enough that without his pass-out, Laurie could not get by the
+eagle-eyed guard who kept constant vigil at the only door where the
+employees were permitted to pass out to the street.
+
+"But the books," she murmured, starting up, "Rennie will be waiting."
+
+Rennie, whose real name was Miss Renton, appeared to be in no hurry.
+Having become interested in writing down lists of books that were to be
+ordered in the morning, she had so far forgotten the girl as to exclaim
+as she came up:
+
+"Why, Lucile! I thought you had gone! Now, dearie, just put those books
+down right there. We can take care of them before the rush begins in the
+morning. Run along now and get your coat. You must go home. It's past
+ten, less than two hours till midnight!"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+Lucile checked herself just in time. She had been about to say that she
+was afraid to go for her coat. And indeed she was, for was it not hanging
+on the wall in that narrow passage at the door of which the mystery lady
+had appeared?
+
+"But it wouldn't do to tell," she thought, "I--I've got to go alone."
+
+Go she did, but with much fear and trembling.
+
+She might have spared herself all this trembling, for there was no one in
+the dark passage.
+
+But what was this? The row of coat hooks were all empty save one, her
+own, and on that hook--what could it mean?--on that hook hung not her own
+too frankly thin and threadbare coat, but a magnificent thing of midnight
+blue and white. It was the cape with the white fox collar worn by the
+mystery woman.
+
+Even as her hand touched the fox skin she knew it was far more costly
+than she had thought.
+
+"It's over my coat," she breathed. "I've only to leave it."
+
+This, she found, was not true. _Her coat had vanished._ The cape had been
+left in its stead and, as if to further perplex and alarm her, the
+midnight blue unfolded, revealing a superb lining of Siberian squirrel.
+
+"Oh!" Lucile exclaimed as her trembling fingers dropped to her side and
+she fled the place.
+
+One consoling thought flashed across her mind. Rennie had not yet left
+for the night. Rennie, the tall and slim, with a thread of gray in her
+black hair, who had been in the department for no one knew how
+long--Rennie would know what to do. The instant she was told all that had
+happened she would say what the very next step must be.
+
+"The instant she is told," Lucile whispered to herself. Then suddenly she
+realized that she did not wish to tell all she had seen.
+
+"Not just yet, at any rate," she told herself. "I'm not supposed to have
+seen it. I want time to think. I'll tell Rennie only what I am supposed
+to know--that my coat has been taken and this cape left in its stead."
+
+Rennie showed little surprise on hearing the story. "Someone has probably
+taken the wrong coat," she said.
+
+"But that's not possible!" Lucile laughed at the very thought.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I'll show you," and she dashed back for the cape.
+
+As Rennie saw the magnificent creation, she gasped with astonishment;
+then began to murmur something about fairy princesses looking after poor
+girls and leaving them gorgeous garments.
+
+"You can't go home without a wrap," she told Lucile. "They say there's a
+regular blizzard outside. You'll simply have to wear it home."
+
+Taking the garment from Lucile's hands, she placed it upon her shoulders
+with a touch that was half caress. Then, having fastened it under
+Lucile's chin, she stood back to exclaim:
+
+"Why, dearie, you look charming!"
+
+"But--but how am I to get out of the building with it? No one will
+believe that a mere sales girl owns a cape like this. It's new. Probably
+it's been stolen."
+
+"Stolen!" exclaimed Rennie. "What nonsense!
+
+"Besides," she added in a quieter tone, "it's not quite new. The strings
+that hold it together at the throat are worn a little smooth and there's
+the least bit of a soil at the bottom. You wait ten minutes for me and
+we'll go out together. I know the watchman. I'll take you out under my
+wing."
+
+Greatly relieved by these words and intent on making the most of her wait
+by having a good general look at the room, Lucile sauntered away to the
+left where she was soon lost from sight behind tables, stacks of books,
+and massive pillars.
+
+Since she had worked here but ten days, the charm of the place had not
+yet worn off. The books, row on row of them, fascinated her. Here was a
+wealth of learning that no one could hope to appropriate in a lifetime.
+To the right of her was poetry, thousands of volumes; to the left, books
+on travel, thousands more; and before her new fiction, tens of thousands.
+Who would not envy her? It was a great place for one who loved books.
+
+With a feeling of sorrow she thought of the time when she must leave all
+this wealth; when she must say goodbye to the wonderful friends she had
+already formed here. In two short weeks she would be going back to the
+University. Since she was dependent upon her own resources for her
+support--and since for one who specialized in English there was quite as
+much to be learned about books by selling as by reading them--her head
+professor had quite readily granted her a month's leave of absence that
+she might come down here to assist in meeting the Christmas rush.
+
+"Ah yes," she breathed, "it will be of the past in two more weeks. But in
+two weeks much may happen. Think of what happened to-night! Think--"
+
+She was brought up short by a sound. Had it been a footstep? She could
+not make sure for the floor was heavily carpeted. Instantly she became
+conscious of the darkness that surrounded her like a shroud. Before her
+loomed the dim outlines of the elevator cages. Distorted by the uncertain
+light, these seemed the cells of some gloomy prison. Far off to the right
+was a great rotunda. From the rail that surrounded this, when the lights
+were on, one might gaze upward to dizzy heights and downward to dizzier
+depths. Now she thought of that awe inspiring vault as if it were some
+deep and mysterious cave.
+
+"Oh--ooo!" Lucile gasped. "This place gets spookier every moment. I'll go
+back to--"
+
+Even as she spoke she caught a sound to her right. Impelled by sheer
+curiosity, she took a dozen steps in that direction.
+
+Suddenly she started back. Against the wall a light had flashed on for a
+second and in that second she had caught sight of a face--the face of
+Laurie Seymour.
+
+Again the light came on. This time the flash was a little longer. She saw
+his face clearly. On his finely cut features there was such a smile as
+suggests anticipation of amusing adventure.
+
+In one hand he held the flashlight. Under his arm was a bundle of
+corrugated paper such as is used in wrapping books for mailing. He was
+standing by a square opening in the wall. Lucile knew in a vague sort of
+way where that opening led. Books that had been wrapped were dropped in
+there. A circular spiral chute, some three feet in diameter, wormed its
+way like an auger hole down from this point to the sub-basement where was
+located the shipping room.
+
+Even as she thought this through she saw Laurie swing his feet across the
+opening. Then, just as the light flashed out, she again saw that amused
+grin. The next second there came the sound of some heavy object gliding
+downward.
+
+"He--he went down the chute!" she gasped. "He'll be killed!"
+
+How long she stood there, petrified with surprise and dread, she could
+not have told. It could not have been many seconds but it seemed an hour.
+At last the end came, a sickening thud sounding faint and far away.
+
+Without uttering a sound, but with heart beating wildly and feet flying
+at almost superhuman speed, the girl raced across the room and down a
+flight of broad marble stairs.
+
+"I must find him. He is hurt. Perhaps he is killed!" she kept repeating
+to herself.
+
+Down one flight; down two; three; four, she sped.
+
+And then, in the darkness of this vast shipping room, she paused to
+listen.
+
+Not a sound. She may as well have been alone in the catacombs of Egypt or
+the Mammoth Cave.
+
+"Must be this way," she breathed.
+
+Truth was, she had lost her sense of direction. She was not sure which
+way to go. She took a dozen steps forward. Finding herself confronted by
+a dark bulk, she started walking round it. Having paused to think, she
+found fear gripping at her heart. When she tried to retrace her steps she
+discovered that the stairs had apparently vanished. She was lost.
+
+"Lost!" she whispered. "Lost in the subbasement of this great building at
+night!" Even as she thought this there came to her, faint and far
+distant, yet very distinct, the even tread of footsteps.
+
+"It's not Laurie. He doesn't walk like that. It--it's--" her heart stood
+still, "it's a watchman! And here I am dressed in this magnificent
+garment which does not belong to me. Somehow I must get back to the third
+floor and to Rennie! But how? How!"
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II
+                    CRIMSON WITH A STRAND OF PURPLE
+
+
+Panic, an unbelievable terror ten times stronger than her will, seized
+Lucile and bore her fleetly down a dark, unknown aisle. The very thought
+of being discovered by a watchman unknown to her, mingled with the
+sensation of the fear of darkness, had driven her well-nigh frantic.
+
+"The cape," she whispered to herself. "I must not be found with the
+cape!"
+
+Had she but possessed the power to reason quietly, she might have known
+that the watchman, searching for an explanation of her strange conduct,
+would, upon her suggesting it, take her back to the third floor and
+Rennie. Not being in full possession of these powers, she abandoned
+herself to panic. Snatching the cape from her shoulders she thrust it
+under her arm and plunged on into the darkness.
+
+In the deeper shadows she saw dim forms looming up before her. Some
+seemed giants ready to reach out and grasp her; some wild creatures
+poised to fall upon her from the dark.
+
+Now she tripped and went sprawling. As she sprang to her feet she caught
+the gleam of a light. Thinking it the watchman's flashlight, she was away
+like the wind.
+
+At last pausing for breath, she listened. At first she heard only the
+beating of her own heart. Then, faint and far away, came the mellow
+chimes of the great clock announcing the arrival of half past ten.
+
+"Half past ten!" she whispered in consternation. "Rennie will leave. The
+place will be in darkness and I shall be lost! What shall I do?"
+
+Again she caught a faint gleam of light. Watching it for a moment, and
+seeing that it was steady and constant, she dared to creep toward it.
+
+Drawing nearer, she saw that it came drifting down an elevator shaft from
+some place a long way above.
+
+"The elevator is there. The door is open!" she said to herself in
+surprise. "And there is no one in it."
+
+Just then, as she strained her ears to listen, she caught again that
+heavy, even tread of the watchman.
+
+Our nerves are strange masters. A great general is thrown into panic at
+sight of a cat; a woman of national fame goes into convulsions at sight
+of rippling water on the sea. As for Lucile, at that moment nothing could
+have so overthrown her whole mental balance as that steady tramp-tramp of
+the watchman.
+
+This time it drove her to the most curious action. As a wild animal,
+driven, winded, cornered, will sometimes dash into the very trap that has
+been set for him, so this girl, leaping forward, entered the elevator
+cage.
+
+Had there been more time, it may have been that her scattered wits
+returning would have told her that here, where the dim light set out her
+whole form in profile, was the most dangerous spot of all.
+
+Before she had time to think of this the elevator gave a sudden lurch and
+started upward.
+
+Nothing could have been more startling. Lucile had never seen an elevator
+ascend without an operator at the levers and she naturally believed it
+could not be done; yet here she was in the cage, going up.
+
+It was as if some phantom hand were in control. Darkness and silence
+rendered it more spectral. The ever increasing speed shot terror to her
+very heart. Sudden as had been the start, so sudden was the stop.
+
+Thrown to the floor and all but knocked unconscious, she slowly struggled
+to her feet. What did it mean? What was to be the end of this terrible
+adventure?
+
+As she looked before her she saw that the car had stopped about three
+feet above some floor. The doors to that floor were shut. The catches,
+however, were within her reach. Should she attempt to open them and make
+a leap for it?
+
+Had she but known it, those doors were supposed to open only when the
+cage was level with the floor. But the infinite power that tempers the
+wind to the shorn lamb sometimes tampers with man-made doors. As if by
+magic, the doors swung back at her touch and with a leap she was out and
+away.
+
+Then, gripping her madly beating heart, she paused to consider. She was
+free from the elevator, but where was she? Her situation seemed more
+desperate than before. She had not counted the floors that sped by her.
+She did not know whether she was on the sixth or the tenth floor.
+
+Reason was beginning to come into its own. With a steadier stride she
+took a turn about the place. Putting out a hand, she touched first this
+object, then that.
+
+"Furniture," she said at last. "Now on what floor is furniture sold?"
+
+She did not know.
+
+Coming at last to a great overstuffed davenport, she sat down upon it.
+Feeling its drowsy comfort after her hot race, she was half tempted to
+stretch herself out upon it, to spread the splendid cape over her, and
+thus to spend the night.
+
+"It won't do," she decided resolutely. "Every extra moment I spend here
+makes it worse."
+
+At that she rose and looked about her. Over to the right was a broad
+stretch of pale light.
+
+"It's the moonlight falling through the great skylight of the rotunda,"
+she breathed.
+
+Instantly she began making her way in that direction. Arrived at the
+railing, she looked down. She was high up. The very thought of the dizzy
+depth below made her feel faint; yet, fighting against this faintness,
+she persisted in looking down until she had established the fact that she
+was on the sixth floor. There remained then but to descend three flights
+of stairs to find the blessed third floor and, perhaps, Rennie.
+
+She was not long in descending. Then, such a silent cry of joy as escaped
+her lips as she saw Rennie's light still dimly burning in the far corner.
+
+Slipping on the cape, the better to hide the dust and dirt she had
+collected from many falls, she at last tiptoed up close to the desk where
+Rennie was working.
+
+"Hello, dearie," said Rennie, smiling up at her through her thick
+glasses. "Ready to go? In just one moment."
+
+Lucile caught her breath in astonishment. Then the truth burst upon her.
+The whole wild adventure through which she had been driven at lightning
+speed had consumed but half an hour. So intent upon her work had dear old
+Rennie been that she had not noted the passing of time.
+
+Some three minutes later, arm in arm, they were making their way down the
+dark and gloomy marble stairs; and a moment later, having safely passed
+the guard, they were out on the deserted street.
+
+The instant they passed through the door they were caught in a great
+whirl of wind and snow that carried them half the way to State Street
+before they could check their mad gait. For Rennie, who was to take the
+surface line, this was well enough; but for Lucile it meant an additional
+half block of beating her way back to her station on the "L."
+
+With a screamed "Good-night" that was caught up and carried away by the
+storm, she tore herself away and, bending low, leaped full into the teeth
+of the gale.
+
+A royal battle ensued. The wind, seeming to redouble its fury at sight of
+a fresh victim, roared at her, tore at her, then turning and twisting,
+appeared to shake her as some low born parent shakes his child. Snow cut
+her face. The blue cape, wrapping about her more than once, tripped her
+for a near fall.
+
+"But it's warm! Oh, so warm!" she breathed. Then, even in the midst of
+all this, she asked herself the meaning of all this strange mystery of
+the night, and, of a sudden, the sight of Laurie stepping into that
+tortuous chute flashed back upon the screen of her memory.
+
+Stopping stock still to grasp a post of the elevated's steel frame, she
+steadied herself and tried to think. Should she turn back? Should she
+make one more attempt to rescue Laurie from whatever plight he may have
+gotten himself into?
+
+For a moment, swaying like a dead leaf on a tree, she clung there.
+
+"No! No!" she said at last, "I wouldn't go back there to-night! Not for
+worlds!" She made one desperate leap across the street and was the next
+moment beating her way up the steel stairway to the elevated.
+
+Once aboard the well heated train, with the fur lined cape adding its
+cozy warmth to her chilled and weary body, she relaxed for the first time
+to think in a quiet way of the night's affair.
+
+A careful review of events convinced her that she had behaved in quite a
+wild and insane manner at times, but that on the whole the outcome was
+quite satisfactory. Certainly she could not have been expected to return
+home without a wrap on a night such as this. Surely she had had nothing
+whatever to do with Laurie's giving away his pass-out, nor of his
+flinging himself so recklessly down the parcel chute. He was almost a
+stranger to her. Why, then, should she concern herself with the outcome
+of an affair which he had clearly entered into of his own free will?
+
+On this last point she could not feel quite comfortable, but since the
+elevated train was hurling her homeward and since she could not, had she
+used her utmost will-power, have driven herself back into that great
+darkened store, and since there was no likelihood of her being admitted
+without a pass, she concluded that she must still be moving in the path
+of destiny.
+
+In strange contrast to the wild whirling storm outside, she found her
+room a cozy nook of comfort. After throwing off her street clothes and
+going through a series of wild gymnastics that came very near to flying,
+she drew on her dream robe, threw a dressing gown across her shoulders
+then sank into a great overstuffed chair. There, curled up like a
+squirrel in a nest of leaves, she gave herself over to cozy comfort and
+to thoughts.
+
+She had arrived at a very comforting one--which was that since she had
+worked until ten this night she need not report for duty until twelve the
+next day--when a spot of color caught her eye. A tiny flash of crimson
+shone out from a background of midnight blue. The midnight blue was the
+rare cape which she had hung against the wall.
+
+"Wonder what that touch of scarlet means?" she whispered drowsily.
+Immediately she thought of Hawthorne's "Scarlet Letter." She shuddered at
+the thought. She had dreamed bad dreams for weeks after reading that
+book.
+
+Gathering up her robe, she sprang lightly from the chair to put out a
+hand and take up the folds of the cape.
+
+"A thread," she mused, "a crimson thread!"
+
+That the thread had not been accidentally caught up by the garment she
+saw at once. With a needle it had been passed twice through the cloth,
+then tied in a loose knot. It was at the place on the cape that rested
+over one's heart.
+
+"Now why would one wear such a curious ornament?" she asked herself while
+a puzzled look came on her face.
+
+"The Scarlet Letter, a crimson thread across one's heart. How similar!
+How very strange!" she mused. Again she shuddered. Was this some ominous
+omen?
+
+With deft fingers she untied the knot, and drawing the thread free,
+carried it to her great chair where, intent upon examining the thread in
+detail, she again curled herself into a position of perfect comfort.
+
+"Huh!" she exclaimed after a time. "Strange sort of thread! Looks like
+ordinary silk thread at first. About size 40 I'd say, but if you examine
+it closely you discover a strand of purple running through it, a very
+fine strand, but unmistakable, running from end to end. How very, very
+unusual."
+
+"Anyway," she said slowly after another moment's thought, "the whole
+affair is dark, hidden, mysterious. And," she exclaimed, suddenly leaping
+from her chair and clasping her hands in ecstasy, "how I do adore a
+mystery. I'll solve it, too! See if I don't! And I must! I must! This
+cape is not mine. I cannot keep it. It is my duty to see that it is
+returned to the owner, whoever she is and whatever her motive for
+entering our store at that unearthly hour and for leaving her wrap
+instead of mine."
+
+Drawing a needle from the cushion on her chifforobe, she threaded it with
+the crimson bit with its purple strand, then, after selecting the spot
+from which it had been taken, she drew it through the wonderful cloth
+twice and knotted it as it had been before.
+
+"There," she breathed, "that's done. Now for bed."
+
+Two thoughts passed across her dreamy mind before she fell asleep: "I may
+sleep until ten. How perfectly gorgeous! The first person I shall look
+for when I enter the store will be Laurie Seymour. I wonder if I shall
+see him? How exciting. I wonder--"
+
+In the midst of this last wonder she fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III
+                             A NEW MYSTERY
+
+
+It was a very satisfactory reflection that Lucile's mirror returned to
+her next morning at ten. After fifteen minutes of such gymnastics as even
+a girl can perform in her own room with the shades down, followed by five
+minutes of a cold shower, she stood there pink and glowing as a child.
+The glow of health and joy remained on her cheeks even after her drab
+working dress had been drawn on. It was heightened by the half hiding of
+them in that matchless white fox collar. Almost instantly, however, a
+look of perplexity overspread her face as her eyes caught the reflection
+of a tiny spot of crimson against the darker color of the gorgeous cape
+which had so mysteriously come into her possession.
+
+"The crimson thread," she whispered. "I do wonder what it could mean."
+
+The elevated train whirled her swiftly to her place of toil.
+
+To her vast relief, the first familiar figure to catch her eyes as she
+passed between the tables of books in her own corner at the store was
+that of Laurie Seymour.
+
+Could it be that as he smiled and nodded to her she caught in his eye a
+look of witching mockery? One thing she did see plainly enough--there
+were slight bruises and two freshly plastered cuts on his right hand.
+
+"Got them when he went down the chute," she told herself.
+
+As she paused before him she threw back the broad front of the mysterious
+cape and said:
+
+"You should know something about this, I am sure."
+
+"Beg pardon?" He started and Lucile thought she saw a sudden flush on his
+cheek.
+
+"You should know something about this," she repeated.
+
+"Why, no, begging your pardon again," he answered easily. "Having had no
+sisters and having never ventured into matrimony, I know almost nothing
+about women's garments. I should say, though, that it was a fine cape, a
+corking fine one. You should be proud of it, really you should."
+
+This was all said in such a serious tone, and yet with such a concealed
+touch of mockery in it, that Lucile abruptly turned away. Plainly there
+was nothing to be learned from him concerning the mystery, at least not
+at the present moment.
+
+As she turned, her eyes chanced to fall upon a stack of books that stood
+by the end of the table.
+
+"Well, well!" she exclaimed. "There were two hundred books in that stack
+last night! Now they are at least a third gone!"
+
+"Yes," Laurie smiled, and in his smile there was a look of personal
+interest. "Yes, they are going very well indeed. We shall need to be
+ordering more soon. You see, it's the critics. They say it is a good
+book, an especially good book for young folks. I can't say as to that. It
+sells, I can assure you of that, and is going to sell more and more."
+
+As Lucile made her way to the cloak room, she was reminded of a rumor
+that had passed through the department on the previous day. The rumor had
+it that Jefrey Farnsworth, the author of this remarkable book "Blue
+Flames," (of which she and Laurie had just been speaking, and which was
+proving to be a best seller in its line and threatening to outsell the
+latest popular novel) had disappeared shortly after the publication of
+his book.
+
+The rumor went on further to dilate upon the subject to the extent that
+this promising young man (for he was a young man--no rumor about that)
+had received a letter the very day he had vanished. There was no mystery
+about the letter. Having been found on his table, it had proven to be but
+a letter from his publishers saying that his book would undoubtedly be a
+great success and that, should he be willing to arrange a lecture to be
+given before women's clubs regarding his work and his books, they had no
+doubt but that he would greatly profit by it and that in the end his
+sales would be doubled. Women's clubs all over the land would welcome him
+with open hands and sizable checks. The letter had said all this and some
+few other things. And upon that day, perhaps the most eventful day of his
+life, Farnsworth had vanished as completely as he might had he grown
+wings and flown to the moon.
+
+"Only a rumor," Lucile said to herself, "but if it's true, it's mystery
+number two."
+
+Instantly there flashed through her mind the puzzling look of unusual
+interest that she had noticed on Laurie's face as he spoke of the huge
+sales of the book.
+
+With this recollection came a strong suggestion which she instantly put
+from her mind.
+
+After hanging the mysterious cape in a secluded corner, she hunted out
+her sales-book and plunged into her work. Even a sales-book of soiled red
+leather may be entrusted with a mystery. This she was to learn soon
+enough.
+
+Such an afternoon as it proved to be! She had need enough for that robust
+strength of hers. Saturday afternoon it was--two weeks before Christmas.
+As the clock struck the noon hour the great office buildings poured forth
+people like a molten stream. Bosses, bookkeepers, stenographers,
+sales-managers, office boys, every type of man, woman and overgrown child
+flooded the great stores. Mingling with these were the thousands upon
+thousands of school children, teachers, and parents, all free for an
+afternoon of pleasure.
+
+A doubtful sort of pleasure, this. Jostling elbow to elbow, trampling and
+being trampled upon, snatching here, snatching there, taking up goods and
+tossing them down in the wrong place, they fought their way about. The
+toy department, candy department, children's book department--these were
+the spots where the great waves of humanity broke most fiercely. Crowded
+between a fat woman with a muff and a slim man with a grouch, Lucile
+wrote a sale for a tired looking little lady with two small children. In
+the meantime an important appearing woman in tight fitting kid gloves was
+insisting that Lucile had promised to "wait upon" her next. As a matter
+of fact Lucile had not seen her until that very moment, and had actually
+promised to sell a large book to a small person who was in a hurry to
+catch a train.
+
+"Catch a train!" Lucile exclaimed to the checking girl. "There must be a
+train leaving every two minutes. They're all catching trains."
+
+So, crowded, pushed and jostled about, answering a hundred reasonable
+questions and two hundred unreasonable ones every hour; smiling when a
+smile would come, wondering in a vague sort of way what it was all about,
+catching the chance remark of a customer about "Christmas spirit," Lucile
+fought her way through the long day.
+
+Then at last, a half hour before closing time, there came the lull.
+Blessed lull! Almost as abruptly as it had come, the flood ebbed away.
+Here and there a little group of people moved slowly away; and here
+someone argued over a long forgotten book or hurried in to snatch up a
+book and demand instant attention. But in the main the flood-tide had
+spent itself.
+
+Creeping back into a dark corner and seating herself upon the floor,
+Lucile added up her sales and then returned to assist in straightening up
+the tables which had taken on the appearance of a chip yard.
+
+"People have a wonderful respect for books," she murmured to Laurie.
+
+"Yes, a lot of respect for the one they buy," smiled Laurie. "They'll
+wreck a half dozen of them to find a spotless copy for their own
+purchasing."
+
+"Yes, they do that, but just think what a shock to dear Rollo or Algernon
+if he should receive a book with a slightly torn jacket-cover for a
+Christmas present!"
+
+"That _would_ be a shock to his nervous system," laughed Laurie.
+
+For a time they worked on in silence. Lucile put all the Century classics
+in order and filled the gaps left by the frenzied purchasers. Laurie,
+working by her side, held up a book.
+
+"There," he said, "is a title for you."
+
+She read the title: "The Hope for Happiness."
+
+"Why should one hope for it when they may really have it?" Laurie
+exclaimed.
+
+"May one have happiness?" Lucile asked.
+
+"Surely one may! Why if one--"
+
+Lucile turned to find a customer at her elbow.
+
+"Will you sell me this?"
+
+The customer, a lady, thrust a copy of Pinocchio into her hand.
+
+"Cash?"
+
+"Yes. I'll take it with me, please."
+
+There was a sweet mellowness in the voice.
+
+Without glancing up, Lucile set her nimble fingers to writing the sale.
+As she wrote, almost automatically, she chanced to glance at the
+customer's hands.
+
+One's hands may be as distinctive and tell as much of character as one's
+face. It was so with these hands. Lucile had never seen such fingers.
+Long, slim, tapering, yet hard and muscular, they were such fingers as
+might belong to a musician or a pickpocket. Lucile felt she would always
+remember those hands as easily as she might recall the face of some other
+person. As if to make doubly sure that she might not forget, on the
+forefinger of the right hand was a ring of cunning and marvelous design;
+a dragon wrought in gold, with eyes of diamonds and a tongue of ten tiny
+rubies. No American craftsmanship, this, but Oriental, Indian or
+Japanese.
+
+Without lifting her eyes, Lucile received the money, carried her book to
+the wrapper and delivered the package to the purchaser. Then she returned
+to her task of putting things to rights.
+
+Scarcely a moment had elapsed when, on glancing toward her cash book
+which lay open on a pile of books, she started in surprise.
+
+There could be no mistaking it. From it there came a flash of crimson.
+Imagine her surprise when she found that the top page of her book had
+been twice pierced by a needle and that a crimson thread had been drawn
+through and knotted there in exactly the same manner as had that other
+bit of thread on the blue cape.
+
+It required but a glance to assure her that through this thread there ran
+the single strand of purple. The next instant she was dashing down the
+aisle, hoping against hope that she might catch a glimpse of the mystery
+woman with the extraordinary fingers and the strange ring.
+
+In this she failed. The woman had vanished.
+
+"And to think," she exclaimed in exasperation, "to think that I did not
+look at her face! Such a foolish way as we do get into--paying no
+attention to our customers! If I had but looked at her face I would have
+known. Then I would have demanded the truth. I would have--" she paused
+to reflect, "well, perhaps I shouldn't have said so much to her, but I
+would have known her better. And now she is gone!"
+
+But there was yet work to be done. Drawing herself together with an
+effort, she hurried back to her table where the disorderly pile of books
+lay waiting to be rearranged.
+
+"Speaking of happiness," said Laurie, for all the world as if their
+conversation had not been interrupted, "I don't see much use of writing a
+book on the hope for happiness when one may be happy right here and now.
+Oh, I know there are those who sing:
+
+  "'This world's a wilderness of woe.
+  This world is not my home.'
+
+"But that's religion, of a sort; mighty poor sort, too, I'd say. Idea
+being that this world's all wrong and that if you enjoy any of it, if the
+scent of spring blossoms, the songs of birds, the laugh of children at
+play, the lazy drift of fleecy clouds against the azure sky, if these
+things make you happy, then you're all wrong. I guess they'd say: 'Life
+here is to be endured. Happiness only comes after death.' Huh! I don't
+think much of that."
+
+"How can one secure happiness?" Lucile asked the question almost
+wistfully. She was over-tired and not a little perplexed.
+
+"There's a lot of things that go with making people happy," said Laurie
+as his nimble fingers flew from book to book. "I'm quite sure that
+happiness does not come from long hours in a ball-room nor from smoking
+cigarettes, nor any one of the many things that put dark rings about the
+eyes of our young new rich or near rich, and that set their eyelids
+twitching.
+
+"Happiness," he mused, throwing back his head and laughing softly. "Why,
+it's as easy to be happy as it is to tell the truth. Have friends and be
+true to them. Find a place you love to be and be there. Keep your body
+and mind fit. Sleep eight hours; eat slowly; take two hours for quiet
+thinking every day. Have a crowd you love, a crowd you feel that you
+belong to and fit in with. Of course they'll not be perfect. None of us
+are. But loveable they are, all the same.
+
+"For instance, take the crowd here," he said, lowering his voice. "You
+and I are transients here. Christmas eve comes and out we go. But look at
+Donnie and Rennie, Bob, Bettie, and dear old Morrison over there in the
+corner. They're the regular ones, been here for years, all of them.
+
+"See here," he continued earnestly, "I'll bet that when you came in here
+you had the popular magazine notion of the people who work in department
+stores; slang of the worst kind, paint an inch thick, lip stick, sordid
+jealousy, envy, no love, no fellowship. But look! What would happen if
+Rennie, the dear mother and straw-boss of us all, should slip before a
+car and be seriously injured to-night? What would happen? Not a soul of
+us all, even us transients, but would dig down and give our last penny to
+buy the things that would help her bear it. That's what I mean, a gang
+that you belong to, that you suffer with, endure things with and enjoy
+life with! That's the big secret of happiness."
+
+As Lucile listened to this short lecture on happiness, she worked. At
+last her task was done. Then with a hurried: "Thanks awfully. Goodnight,"
+she rushed for the cloak-room preparatory to donning the fur-lined cape.
+She half expected to find it gone, but it was not, and after throwing it
+across her shoulders she dashed down the stairs to join the homeward
+rushing throng.
+
+As she snuggled down beneath the covers that night, she found her mind
+dwelling with unusually intense interest upon the events of the past two
+days. Like pictures on a screen, strange, unanswerable questions passed
+through her mind. Who was the mystery woman of the night shadows in the
+book department? Why had Laurie given her his pass-out? Why had she left
+her gorgeously beautiful cape behind for a shop girl to wear home? How
+had the unusual crimson thread come to be drawn into the cloth of the
+cape? Had the mystery woman put it there? Had she drawn that thread
+through the page of Lucile's cash book? It seemed that she must have. But
+why? Why? Why? This last word kept ringing in her ears. Why had Laurie
+given up his pass-out? Where had he slept that night? How did it happen
+that an elevator in a department store at night ran of its own accord
+with no one to work the lever? Surely here were problems enough to keep
+one small brain busy.
+
+Then again, there was the problem of the missing author of that
+wonderfully successful book. What did Laurie know about that? Why had he
+talked so strangely about it?
+
+When she had allowed all these problems to pass in review before her
+mind's eye, she came to but one conclusion--that she would believe Laurie
+a sincere and trustworthy person until he had been proven otherwise. Her
+faith had been shaken a bit by the revelation of the night before.
+
+"Life," she whispered sleepily to herself, "is certainly strange. Surely
+one who can talk so wonderfully about happiness can't be bad. And yet
+it's all very mysterious."
+
+Right there she concluded that mysteries of the right sort added much to
+the happiness of us all, and with that she fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV
+                            THE PICTURE GIRL
+
+
+Little dreaming of the stirring events that awaited her, and without the
+slightest anticipation of the new mystery and unusual responsibilities
+that were crowding in upon her that day, Lucile took her Monday morning
+train with the quiet composure of one who, having enjoyed a perfect
+Sunday of rest, looks forward with enthusiasm to a day of interesting
+service.
+
+The supreme moment of that day arrived in a rather unusual place at a
+time when the clock's hands were nearing the hour of 1:00. Before that,
+however, there came hours of the usual toil which many would call
+drudgery. From eight-thirty until ten there were few customers. Every
+moment was taken up. Two truckloads of books had come down from the
+apparently inexhaustable storerooms above. These must be placed on the
+tables. Tables must be dusted; cash-books filled with blanks for the day;
+books out of place must be returned to the proper section.
+
+As Lucile came and went in the performance of her allotted tasks, she was
+more and more impressed with what Laurie had said about this group of
+loyal friends, this company of sales-people who were so much like a very
+large family.
+
+"They are all my friends, almost my kinsfolk," she told herself with a
+little gulp of joy that was very near to tears.
+
+And so they were. Even outside her little corner they greeted her with a
+comradely smile. There was the pleasing lady who sold new fiction, and
+the tumbled haired lady who sold travel books and had sold books in
+stores from coast to coast. In the first alcove was the worried lady who
+handled standard sets; in the second was the dignified one who murmured
+in low, church-like tones of prayer books and rosaries; while in the
+farthest, deepest alcove of all was dear old Morrison, the young-old man
+with premature gray hair and a stoop. But his lustrous eyes were lighted
+with an earnestness such as one seldom looks into, and he had an air of
+poise and refinement and a smile of perfect fellowship. He sold fine
+bindings, and knew them well. Besides that, he could tell you the name
+and publishers of every book for serious minded people published since
+the days of Ben Franklin.
+
+Working among such people as these, and in spite of all her strenuous
+hours of labor, Lucile dreaded the coming of Christmas Eve when she must
+bid them all farewell and return to her studies. Never before had she
+been so tempted to relinquish her cherished hope of university training
+and to settle down to work among a host of interesting and loyal friends.
+
+So the forenoon wore away, and with the passing of each hour the great
+and startling event of that day came sixty minutes nearer.
+
+The noon hour at last arrived. Having hastily eaten her paper-bag lunch,
+Lucile hurried from the store. There was yet three-quarters of an hour to
+spend. She would spend the time sauntering through a place of great
+enchantment, the Art Museum.
+
+Five minutes of battling with wind and intense cold, and she was there.
+Racing up the stone steps, she paused an instant for breath. Then she
+entered and hurried up the broad marble stairway. At last she came to a
+place where a great circular leather cushioned seat in the center of a
+room offered opportunity for perfect repose. There she sank down, to hide
+her eyes with her hands until the frost and the glare of snow had left
+them, then to open them slowly and to squint away contentedly toward the
+wall which lay before her.
+
+Before her, and a little to the left, was a painting from Ireland, the
+work of a great master. It was a simple thing in a way, a boy clad in
+humble garb shoveling snow, and a girl with a shawl thrown over her
+shoulders, coming down the well cleaned path. Very simple people these,
+but happy and kind. There were sparrows perched along the path. A very
+humble theme, but such masses of wonderful color! Had she not seen it,
+Lucile would not have believed that artists could have achieved such
+perfection.
+
+To the left was an equally lovely picture; dawn on the heather, the sun
+rising from the dripping dewy green and a girl reaper going to her toil
+with the song of a lark on her lips and joy in her eye.
+
+These were the pictures that brought rest and joy to Lucile's half hour
+of leisure and helped prepare her for events that cast no shadow before
+them.
+
+She had descended the marble stairs and was about to leave the building
+when a picture arrested her attention; a living picture of a girl. And
+such a girl as she was! A supple grace to her waist and shoulders, a
+proper curve at the ankles, and a face--such a face! Cheeks aglow with
+the color the frosty out-of-doors had given them. Cheeks offset by dark,
+deep-set eyes, made darker still by eyelashes that were like hemlocks in
+a snow covered valley, and a smooth oval forehead backed by a wealth of
+short, wavy hair. This was the picture; only faintly sketched, for behind
+all this beauty there was a certain strength of character, a force of
+will that seemed a slumbering fire gleaming from her eyes. In the
+background were people and marble pillars. The girl had just entered the
+Museum and, uncertain of her way, stood irresolute.
+
+"She's from the country," Lucile whispered to herself. "Her clothes show
+that. But how startling, how unusual, how--how striking she is!
+
+"She's like the pictures I've been seeing, they were unusual and
+priceless. She is the same. And yet," a feeling of fear and sadness swept
+over her, "those priceless pictures are carefully guarded night and day.
+I wonder if she is? She seems alone. It's not to be wondered at, their
+guarding those pictures. Who would not like one for his room? Who would
+not love to open his eyes each morning upon the girl in the 'Song of the
+Lark'? But they'd wish to possess that girl, too. A father, a mother,
+sister, brother, would be proud to possess her, to look at her every
+morning, a--anyone would. And yet, she's not--"
+
+Her meditations were cut short by sight of a figure standing not ten feet
+from her; a tall, slim, young man whose features might have been carved
+from marble, and in whose eyes Lucile had surprised a steely glance such
+as she had once caught in the beady eye of a down-swooping hawk.
+
+And then, as if enacting her part in a play, the girl of this living
+picture suddenly wavered where she stood. Her face went white, then with
+a little, wavering cry, she crumpled in a heap on the marble floor.
+
+Lucile could have sworn the girl was alone and uncertain of her next
+move. She understood what had happened. Having traveled far in the
+intense cold, the girl had been overcome by the heavy warmth of the
+museum and had fainted. The thing that happened next puzzled Lucile
+beyond belief.
+
+After ten seconds of motionless panic, a half score of people sprang to
+her assistance. But the young man, he of the marble features and steely
+eye, was first up.
+
+"It's all right," he was saying in a quiet, even tone, "she's my sister.
+I'll take care of her. We have a car outside."
+
+Lifting the unconscious girl in his arms, he started for the door.
+
+"It's not all right! It's not all right!" Lucile fairly shrieked the
+words.
+
+To her vast astonishment, the next moment she was gripping a burly guard
+by the arm and saying in a voice hoarse with emotion:
+
+"It's not all right! He's not her brother. He--he's stealing her! Stop
+them!"
+
+To her further astonishment, the guard believed her. With three strides
+he reached the door and blocked it.
+
+"Here! Here!" he said in the tone of one who is accustomed to be obeyed.
+"It won't do. You can't take her out like that."
+
+"Oh, all right," there was a note of forced indifference in the young
+man's voice, but there was murder in his cold, hard eyes. "All right, if
+you know so much. Fetch some water and get her out of it. She'll tell you
+I'm her brother. But be quick about it. You're a beef-head for ordering a
+gentleman about."
+
+Lucile's heart went to the bottom of her shoes. What was this? Had her
+emotions led her astray? Was he indeed the girl's brother? It would seem
+so, else why would he consent so readily to the delay, which must mean
+proof one way or another? She was soon to see. Tremblingly, she awaited
+the outcome. Dropping upon the marble floor, she pillowed the girl's head
+in her lap and brushing away the hair from the face, caressed the cold
+forehead with a soft hand.
+
+When the water had been brought Lucile dampened her handkerchief and laid
+it icy cold on the other's forehead. Almost instantly the eyes opened and
+the girl, having dragged herself to a sitting position, stared about the
+museum.
+
+"Wha--where am I?" she asked. "What has happened?"
+
+"You're in the Art Museum. You fainted."
+
+"Faint--fainted!" There was terror in her eyes.
+
+"It was the cold. It's nothing, really nothing." Lucile put a steadying
+arm about her. "You'll be quite all right in a moment."
+
+"Now where is that brother of hers?" grumbled the guard. "He's nowhere to
+be seen! He's gone!"
+
+"Gone?" echoed Lucile.
+
+"Brother?" said the girl in astonishment. "I have no brother. I am
+alone."
+
+Such a wave of feeling swept over Lucile as made her sick and faint. She
+had been right, dreadfully right. She had saved this girl, this wonderful
+creature, from--she dared not think from what.
+
+For a moment, rocked by her emotions, she sat there in silence. At last,
+with a supreme effort, she dragged herself to her feet.
+
+"You look the worst of the two," said the guard, giving her a keen
+glance.
+
+"I'm all right," she protested stoutly.
+
+To the girl, whom she had assisted to her feet, she said, "You may come
+with me if you wish. Our store's only two blocks away. There's a rest
+room. You'll be all right there until you sort of get your bearings.
+Perhaps I can help you."
+
+"I'd--I'd be glad to," said the other, clinging to her impulsively.
+
+So they left the museum together. Though she kept a sharp watch to right
+and left, Lucile caught no sign of the volunteer brother, but she
+shivered once or twice at the very thought of him.
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+It was a very much perplexed Lucile who curled up in her big chair that
+night for a few moments of quiet thought before retiring.
+
+A new mystery had been added to her already well filled list of strange
+doings. "First," she said to herself, telling them off like beads on a
+rosary, "there comes the beautiful mystery woman and the cape she left
+behind; then Laurie Seymour and the vanishing author; then the crimson
+thread; and now this girl."
+
+As she whispered this last she nodded toward the bed. There, lying
+wrapped in slumber, was the beautiful girl she had saved in the museum.
+
+"She's even more beautiful in sleep than when awake," Lucile murmured.
+"And such a strange creature! She hasn't told me a thing."
+
+The last statement was entirely true. Any notion Lucile had of the girl,
+any guess at her hidden secrets, was based on observation and conjecture
+alone. Not one word regarding them had escaped the strange girl's lips.
+
+Having accompanied Lucile to the store, she had lain upon a couch in the
+"quiet room" for three hours. Whenever Lucile had stolen a moment from
+work to look in upon her, the girl had appeared to be day-dreaming. Far
+from being worried about events of the past or the immediate future, she
+had appeared to be enjoying the recalling of an interesting adventure or
+anticipating one.
+
+At five she had risen from the cot and, having brushed her hair and
+arranged her clothing, had insisted upon helping her new-found friend to
+put her tables to rights. She had accepted Lucile's invitation to pass
+the night with her with the nonchalance of one who is offered this
+courtesy from a long-time friend.
+
+Innocent of one scrap of baggage, in the same manner she had accepted
+Lucile's offer of a dream robe.
+
+In only one respect had she showed her independence. Having produced a
+dollar bill from somewhere on her person, she had insisted on paying for
+her own frugal lunch.
+
+"Her clothes are the strangest of all," Lucile whispered to herself.
+"When a girl comes upon a run of hard luck, she's likely to try to keep
+up an appearance even though she is shabby underneath. But look at her; a
+countrified suit of shiny blue serge, two years behind the times, and her
+undergarments are new and of the finest silk, up to the minute, too. How
+is one to explain that?"
+
+She was not disturbed in the least about the girl's morals. She was as
+sweet and clean as a fresh blooming rose. Lucile would have sworn to
+that. With the lights turned out, and with the tingling winter air
+entering the open window, before retiring the girl had joined Lucile in
+the nightly "setting up" exercises and had appeared to enjoy them, too.
+
+The strange girl's skin was like the finest satin. Her lines were
+perfect, her muscles superb. Through lack of knowledge of the exercises,
+she often blundered. But she could whirl more quickly, leap higher and
+swing about more gracefully than Lucile, who had never failed to throw
+her whole heart into her gym work.
+
+"All that," Lucile murmured as she drew off her bathrobe preparatory to
+slipping beneath the covers, "all that, and she has not told me one word
+about herself. For a country girl she certainly has her full supply of
+reserve. To-morrow I am to try to get work for her as a wrapper. No doubt
+I can do it. And then?"
+
+She thought about the future for a moment. She was alone this year. If
+you have read our book, "The Cruise of the O'Moo," you will remember that
+while living in the yacht in dry dock she had two companions--Florence
+and Marion. Florence had gone home. Marion was in Alaska. Now Lucile was
+alone. She would welcome a friend and, unless she had misread her
+character, this girl had the qualities of a steadfast and loyal pal.
+
+"But her past?" Lucile whispered as she placed her slippers beneath the
+bed and drew back the covers. "Ah well, we shall see."
+
+Once during the night she was wakened by the girl, who was evidently
+talking in her sleep.
+
+"Don't let them. Don't! Don't!" she all but screamed as she threw out her
+arms for protection from some dream foe.
+
+Putting her arms about her, Lucile held her tight until the dream had
+passed and she fell back once more into peaceful slumber.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V
+                           "COME AND FIND ME"
+
+
+"I'll pull some wires." The kindly face of Morrison, the man of fine
+bindings, gleamed as he said these words to Lucile next morning. "That's
+the way things are done these days. I haven't much notion how they were
+done in the past. But now, if I want anything, I pull some wires. For
+instance, your young friend whom you found in the Art Museum and whose
+name is Cordelia but whom you choose to call Cordie for short, wants work
+in this store. You ask me to pull wires and I pull 'em. I pull one and
+Miss So and So comes bowing out of her box of an office and I whisper
+what I want. 'I'll pull some wires,' says she, putting on her best smile.
+'I'll put in a wedge, a very thin wedge.'
+
+"She puts in her thin wedge. She pulls some wires and Mr. So and So up on
+the eleventh floor bobs bowing out of his box and inclines his ear to
+listen.
+
+"'Ah! Yes, I see, I see,' he murmurs. 'I shall pull some wires.'
+
+"He pulls some wires. A slip of paper appears. It is signed. It is given
+to your friend. She goes here, she bobs there, and presently here she is.
+She has accepted 'the iron ring,' wrapping packages with very gay company
+all about her, having a good time and getting pay for it. But let me
+assure you it could not be done without wires pulled and thin wedges
+inserted. No, it could not be done. Nothing these days is done without
+wires and wedges. Wires and wedges, wedges and wires, my dear."
+
+With this very lucid explanation of the way the world is run these days,
+the benevolent Morrison bowed himself away.
+
+True to his prediction, two hours later the mysteriously silent Cordelia
+was installed in an obscure corner of the book section, working at the
+wrapping counter. She had accepted "the iron ring," said ring being an
+affair of solid iron into which, in a semi-circular bump on its edge, had
+been set a sharp bit of steel. The theory is that the steel edge cuts the
+stout cord with which the bundles are tied. Truth was that more often the
+sharp edge cut the girls' fingers than did the steel the string. So, in
+time having learned wisdom, Cordie discarded this doubtful bit of jewelry
+and used a knife. However, she worked on steadily and quite skillfully.
+Before night it had become evident to all that the girl was proving a
+credit to her young protector, and that, take it all in all, wires had
+not been pulled nor wedges inserted in vain.
+
+Two matters of interest came to Lucile's attention that day. A rumor was
+confirmed and a discovery made that in the end was to take someone
+somewhere.
+
+First in regard to the discovery. Someone had left a morning paper on
+Lucile's table of books. She snatched it up and was about to consign it
+to the waste box when a headline caught her eye:
+
+                           "COME AND FIND ME"
+
+Beneath this was a second headline:
+
+                 "Two Hundred Dollars for a Handshake."
+
+There was not time to read what followed. Hastily tearing the corner from
+the page, she thrust this scrap into her pocket to be read later.
+
+"The rumor's confirmed," said Laurie a moment later as he thrust a
+clipping from a publisher's weekly in her hand.
+
+There were but a few lines. Lucile read them in a moment. It had to do
+with the disappearance of the promising young writer, Jefrey Farnsworth,
+author of "Blue Flames."
+
+"There can be no doubt," the article went on to say, "that the young man
+has utterly disappeared. Being a single man with few intimates, and a man
+who lived a rather secluded life, he has either slipped away without
+being noticed or has met with some grave mishap. His publishers are
+greatly disturbed over his disappearance. Without doubting his
+willingness to assist in the task of being made famous, they had booked
+him for talks before no less than twenty women's clubs.
+
+"As the popularity of his book, 'Blue Flames,' had grown by leaps and
+bounds, every woman in the country was ready to be told by him just what
+her son or daughter should or should not read. There was not the least
+doubt but that here was the first genuine best seller in the line since
+the first days of Treasure Island and Huckleberry Finn. Yes, the world
+was ready to hear him speak. But Farnsworth was not ready--at least he
+has vanished."
+
+"Twenty women's clubs," exclaimed Laurie, doing a feint in pantomime.
+"Think of speaking to twenty women's clubs! Thousands and thousands of
+kid-gloved, well fed, contented women! Oh! Wow! Twenty clubs, then twenty
+more and twenty after that! To drink tea with 'em and to have them grip
+your hand and tell you how they enjoyed the rot you fed to them! Oh! Ow!
+Ow!"
+
+"Women's clubs are all right," protested Lucile, her face lighting with
+anger. "Their work is constructive. They do a great deal of good."
+
+"Beg a thousand pardons," said Laurie, coloring in his turn. "I didn't
+mean to say they weren't. They're all right, and the ladies too, Lord
+bless 'em. But how does that go to prove that a poor, innocent young
+writer, who happens to have struck gold with his pen but who never made a
+speech in his life, should be chained to a platform and made to do tricks
+like a trained bear before thousands of women? Women's clubs are all
+right, but they couldn't club me to death with their clubs." He threw
+back his shoulders to join Lucile in a laugh over his rather bad pun, and
+there, for the time being the matter ended.
+
+Lucile was destined to recall the whole affair from time to time. Hours
+later, she had an opportunity to study his face unobserved. She noted his
+high forehead, his even and rugged features, his expressive hands, and
+when she saw him selling away on that stock of "Blue Flames" as if his
+life depended upon it, she was led to wonder a great wonder. However, she
+kept this wonder to herself.
+
+The noon hour had come before Lucile found time to again look at the
+scrap of printing she had torn from the discarded newspaper. In the
+employees' lunch room, over a glass of milk and a sandwich, and with the
+wonderful Cordie sitting opposite, she read the thing through.
+
+"Come and find me. I am the Spirit of Christmas," it ran. "I offer gold,
+two hundred in gold, for a shake of the hand, yet no one is so kind as to
+give me the clasp of cheer. I am the Spirit of Christmas. I am tall and
+slim, and of course I am a woman--a young woman whom some have been so
+kind as to call fair. To-day I dress in the garb of a working woman.
+Yesterday it was the coat of a sales-girl. At another time it was in more
+gorgeous apparel. But always my face and my hands are the same. Ah yes,
+my hands! There is as much to be learned from the hands as from the face.
+Character and many secrets are written there.
+
+"Yesterday I walked the Boulevard, as I promised I should, yet not one of
+the rushing thousands paused to shake my hand and say: 'You are the
+Spirit of Christmas.' Had one done so, tho' he had been but a beggar in
+rags, the two hundred of gold would have clinked into his pocket. Yet not
+one paused. They all passed on.
+
+"I entered a little shop to purchase a tiny bit of candy. The saleslady,
+a little black-eyed creature, scowled at me and refused to sell so
+little, even though I looked to be a shop-girl. She did not shake my
+hand, and I was glad, for had she done so and had she said: 'You are the
+Spirit of Christmas,' the gold would have clinked for her. I left my
+mark, which is my sign, and passed on.
+
+"Later I entered a busy shop, a great shop where tired girls rushed here
+and there constantly. I troubled a dear little girl who had a wan smile
+and tender eyes, to show me many things. I bought nothing in the end, but
+she was kind and courteous for all that. I wished--Oh, how I wished that
+she would grasp my hand and whisper ever so softly: 'You are the Spirit
+of Christmas.' But she said never a word, so the gold did not clink for
+her. After leaving my mark, which is also my sign, I passed on.
+
+"To-day I shall join the throngs that shop among the windows of State
+Street. I shall enter a store here and another there. I shall pause here
+to examine goods and there to make a purchase. At every place, as I pass
+on, I shall leave my mark, which is also my sign. If you chance to see
+me, if you know me, if you read my secret in my face or in my hands,
+grasp those hands and whisper: 'You are the Spirit of Christmas.' Then
+gold will clink for you, two hundred in gold.
+
+"I am the Spirit of Christmas. Everywhere I go I leave a crimson trail
+behind."
+
+This was the end. Lucile glanced up with a dazed and puzzled look in her
+eyes.
+
+"What in the world can it mean?" she asked, holding the bit of paper
+before Cordie.
+
+Cordie laughed. "That's something the paper is doing. I think it's just
+to make people buy the paper. No one has ever recognized her. She's
+clever."
+
+"I'd like to find her," mused Lucile.
+
+"Wouldn't you, though? Who wouldn't? You'd get the gold if you did; but
+you never will. She's keen. Why, only two days ago she was in this store
+for a half hour. Bought a book, mind you, and you may have sold it to
+her. Think of that! The day before that she was in the store for six
+hours. Think of that! And no one knew her. They'll never get her, trust
+her for that. But if they do, the gold will clink." The girl laughed a
+merry laugh, then hurried away for a cream-puff.
+
+Left to herself, Lucile had time for a few moments of quiet thinking. She
+found her pulse strangely quickened by the news story and her companion's
+interpretation. Somehow, almost as if some strange power outside her were
+whispering it to her, she felt forced to believe that she could connect
+this new and interesting discovery with some of the other mysteries which
+had come to haunt her.
+
+"But how?" she asked herself. "How?"
+
+Cordie appeared to know a great deal about this "Spirit of Christmas"
+lady and the gold that would clink for a handshake. But after all, she
+had revealed no facts that were not known to hundreds of thousands who
+had followed the matter closely. It had all been in the papers.
+
+"No, it doesn't tell me anything about Cordie," Lucile whispered,
+"except--" she paused suddenly. Cordie had told of things that had
+happened in the city four days back. Could she have been in the city all
+this time? Probably had been. And without baggage, or so much as a
+dream-robe. How very strange!
+
+But had she been without baggage? Might she not owe a board bill? Might
+not her belongings be in the hands of some landlady at the present time?
+
+"It's a wonder she doesn't tell me about herself," Lucile murmured. "It's
+no use to ask her. A person who is forced to reveal her past is almost
+sure to tell anything but the truth. I must wait her time. It's true she
+has a little money; but perhaps not enough to pay the bill.
+
+"I wonder," she went on thoughtfully, "why I don't cut her adrift? Why
+should I be looking after her? Haven't I enough to do in looking after
+myself?"
+
+It was true that she had her own responsibilities, but she knew right
+well that if need be she would do a great deal more for the girl before
+casting her off to become an easy prey to the human hawks and vultures
+who haunt a great city.
+
+"But this lady of the Christmas Spirit," she murmured. "The good fates
+surely know I need that gold. And if this strange little beauty, Cordie,
+costs me something, which she promises to do, I shall need it more than
+ever."
+
+Once more her eyes ran over the scrap of paper. They came to a sudden
+pause.
+
+"Behind me I leave a crimson trail," she read.
+
+For a moment her brow was wrinkled in puzzled thought. Then she gave a
+sudden start.
+
+"If it should be! If it meant just that!" she exclaimed half aloud.
+
+"But then, of course it couldn't. A crimson trail--a crimson trail----"
+
+"Here's one for you," exclaimed Cordie, setting a delicious cream-puff
+before her. "There's just time for devouring them before we go back to
+work. Work! Oh, boy! I say it's work! But it's heaps of fun, anyway.
+
+"Say!" she exclaimed suddenly, "Do you know James?"
+
+"Who is James?"
+
+"The man who carries away the packages from my desk."
+
+"A stooped old man."
+
+"Not a bit of it."
+
+"They always are."
+
+"He's not. Take a look at him. He's a sight for tired eyes. He--he's
+intriguing. I--I'm working on him. He's awful reserved, but I think he
+likes me. He's got a story. I'll get it. Leave that to me."
+
+"So even little Cordie loves mysteries and has found one to study out,"
+thought Lucile with an amused smile as she turned to go.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI
+                             THE IRON RING
+
+
+Cordie's description of James proved quite true. An intriguing figure was
+this James; a stalwart man of forty, a straight, square-shouldered
+six-footer, with face as brown as a coffee bean. He was unmistakably
+American, yet he seemed oddly out of place as, with arms piled high with
+bundles, he moved steadily through the crowd. There was a certain
+directness, and with all that a slight roll about his walk, that
+suggested some sort of sea craft. He was not unlike some port-to-port
+steamer, waiting at dock for its load, then steaming away to the port of
+discharge.
+
+"A silent man, and one who has been accustomed to command, not to plod,"
+was Lucile's mental comment. "He's not accustomed to being called James,
+like a chauffeur or a butler. You can see that by the twinkle in the
+corner of his eye when someone calls him by that name. I wonder what
+could have brought him to the extremity of carrying bundles for twenty
+dollars a week. I'm sure he doesn't drink to excess. His face would show
+it if he did. Oh well, that's Cordie's little mystery. Let her fathom it
+when the opportunity comes."
+
+Cordie's opportunity came a little later, and in a decidedly startling
+manner.
+
+In the meantime this was another busy afternoon; one of the busiest of
+the season.
+
+"Only listen to them!" Lucile said to Cordie as she waited for a parcel.
+"Most of them are women trying to select books for boys and girls. Not
+one in ten really knows what she wants or what boys and girls read these
+days. Listen--"
+
+Cordie listened as she worked, and this, from a score of pairs of lips,
+is what she heard: "Have you got the Alger books?" "Do you keep Peck's
+Bad Boy? That's such a splendid story. Don't you think so?" "I want a--a
+book for a boy fourteen years old. What can you recommend?" "Have you the
+Elsie books? Those are _such_ sweet stories!" "I want a book for a boy
+twelve years old. I don't want anything trashy, though. Which of these
+fifty-cent books would you recommend?" "Is this a good book?"
+
+"The answer," whispered Lucile with a little giggle, "the answer, if they
+say 'Is this a good book?' is always 'Yes.' Always yes, whether you think
+so or not. I'll tell you why. Nine times out of ten, when a woman
+customer says 'Is this a good book?' she has already made up her mind
+that it is a good book. If you say 'Yes' she'll smile and buy it. If you
+say 'No,' she'll frown and buy it anyway. So why provoke a frown, and
+Christmas only two weeks away?"
+
+Only her untiring good nature and her native sense of humor, kept Lucile
+on her feet and going. There were times, however, when even these
+deserted her. One of those unfortunate moments arrived this very
+afternoon. A particularly unpleasant customer had said to her: "I want a
+book about a boy who was brought up by the monks." After suggesting
+everything that seemed akin to this, she happened upon "Tarzan." "Oh
+yes!" exclaimed the customer, "That's it. Tarzan."
+
+A second customer wanted "Laddie." When the modern "Laddie" was produced,
+the customer insisted that this was not the original "Laddie," but a
+cheap substitute; that the first "Laddie" was written years ago by a
+person who's name she did not recall, but who had written another book
+called something else. She had insisted on Lucile's asking everyone in
+the section about it and, after leaving very warm and unhappy, reappeared
+ten minutes later with another clerk, still looking for the original
+"Laddie."
+
+In the midst of all this Lucile came upon a fidgeting customer whose
+fingers were constantly plaiting stray locks of hair and whose lips were
+saying: "I must make a train. I really must. Do you think you could get
+them to hurry. Do you? Do you really? That would be so nice of you!"
+
+After hurrying the sale through and getting many a sharp look for
+stepping in ahead of her turn, Lucile had the pleasure of seeing the
+customer meet a friend an aisle over and pause for a prolonged spell of
+gossip.
+
+"Who could believe that they could be such children?" she murmured. "No,
+we haven't the Broncho Buster Boys," she turned to answer a query.
+"That's a fifty-cent series which we do not carry." The person who asked
+the question was a rather pompous lady in kid gloves.
+
+"Have you the Broncho Buster Boys?"
+
+She caught the words spoken behind her back. The customer, ignoring her
+decided negative, had deliberately turned about and asked the same
+question of a girl who had come on the floor that morning and knew
+nothing about the stock.
+
+"I told her," Lucile said in as steady a tone as she could command, "that
+we do not carry them."
+
+Instantly the customer flew into a towering rage. Her words, though quite
+proper on the lips of a society lady, were the sort that cut to the very
+soul.
+
+A sharp retort came to Lucile's lips and she said it.
+
+She was in the midst of it when a hand touched her shoulder and a steady
+voice said:
+
+"Here! Here! What's this?"
+
+The words, while not said in an unkindly tone, had a ring of authority to
+them. Wheeling about, Lucile found herself facing a beautiful lady, one
+of the most beautiful she had ever seen; black hair, full cheeks of
+wonderful color, and eyes of the deepest blue. Lucile took in all the
+beauty of her for the first time at a glance, and at the same moment cold
+terror struck to her heart. This was Miss Bruce, the head of the section,
+the one who could dismiss a salesgirl at a word. And she had just heard
+Lucile break the most rigid rule of the house! She had talked back to a
+customer!
+
+White faced, staring, endeavoring to speak but uttering no sound, Lucile
+stood there as if frozen to the spot.
+
+"There, there, dearie! I know how it is. Don't do it again, that's all."
+Lucile felt a friendly pressure on her arm, then the great lady of the
+section was gone.
+
+In spite of her bravest efforts, tears rushed to Lucile's eyes. One
+splashed down on either cheek before she could check them. Were they
+tears of vexation or gratitude, or merely tired tears? Who could say?
+
+Through the tears Lucile dimly saw a face. It was an electrifying vision,
+and dashing away the tears, she became at once her own, keen, better
+self.
+
+"Yes, yes, it is! It's the Mystery Lady," she assured herself.
+"She's--she's talking to Cordie. I must----"
+
+As she started toward the wrapping stand where stood the Mystery Lady, a
+voice at her elbow said:
+
+"Will you sell me this? Could you have them hurry a little? I must make a
+train. I really must." It was the harried and hurried lady of a half hour
+previous. She had found another book and was making another train.
+
+With great reluctance and much pent-up anger, Lucile waited upon her; and
+in the meantime, as was her wont, the Mystery Lady, the lady of the
+crimson thread, had vanished.
+
+"Who--who was the tall lady you were speaking to a moment ago?" she
+breathlessly asked Cordie a moment later.
+
+"How should I know? She asked me for a string to tie a package. Lots of
+them ask for string, or a piece of corrugated paper, or a card to write a
+greeting on."
+
+"Was that all?"
+
+"That was about all."
+
+"Look!" exclaimed Lucile. "Who put that there?"
+
+She was pointing to a loose end of wrapping paper through which had been
+drawn and neatly tied a bit of crimson thread with a single purple
+strand.
+
+"Search me," smiled Cordie. "How should I know?"
+
+While Lucile was disengaging the thread and thrusting it in her pocket,
+Cordie was searching the top of her desk.
+
+"That's funny," she said at last. "It was here a moment ago. Now it's
+gone."
+
+"What?"
+
+"My iron ring."
+
+"The one you cut cord with?"
+
+"I'm supposed to use it for that," Cordie tossed her head. "The thing
+cuts my finger. All the same, I ought to have it. You're supposed to turn
+such things in when they lay you off. But if it's gone, it's gone."
+Shrugging her shoulders, she promptly forgot it. So did Lucile, but the
+time came when she was reminded of the loss in a most forceful manner.
+
+"I wonder," she whispered as she moved away, "I do wonder what she does
+that for. This is the third time. It's the strangest thing I ever heard
+of." She fingered the crimson thread.
+
+The melting away of great stocks of the year's most popular book for
+young people, "Blue Flames," was most amazing. A fresh truck load, three
+or four hundred copies, had come down that very morning. By mid-afternoon
+they were two-thirds gone.
+
+For a time, as she watched, Lucile's astonishment grew; then it began to
+ebb. She was learning the secret of it. Laurie Seymour hovered over the
+pile constantly. Hardly a customer left him without purchasing one or
+more copies. Apparently well informed regarding the contents of the book,
+he told still more regarding the personality of the author and how he had
+gone about the task of gathering the material. All of the local color of
+the book was penned with minute exactness; the characters were true to
+life; their actions, while not pedantic, were such as would lead girls
+and boys to higher thinking and unselfish living. More than that, the
+story contained precisely the elements which young people of to-day
+demand. Action, adventure, suspense, mystery--all were here in proper and
+generous proportions. Thus he would describe the book.
+
+"Yes," he would assure the prospective purchaser, "it's this year's
+publication; not six weeks off the press and it sells for a dollar. How
+is that possible? That it might have a large sale the author cut his
+royalty to one-third, and the publishers cut their profits accordingly.
+The book compares favorably with many a book selling for nearly twice the
+price."
+
+What customer could refuse such a book? Few did. Even more important than
+this was the fact that the other salespeople, especially those who were
+new and had little knowledge of the stock but who were zealous for quick
+sales, listened to his lucid story of the book, and having learned it by
+heart, joined in selling it. There were times when clerks fluttered as
+thickly about that pile of books as sparrows around a crust of bread.
+
+"Who is Laurie Seymour; why is he so greatly interested in that
+particular book, and how does he come to know so much about it?" Having
+put these questions to herself, Lucile went about the task of asking
+others about him. She asked Rennie and Donnie, the inseparable two who
+had worked in that corner so long. She searched out Tommie, the young man
+of twenty who knew all about boys' books. She asked Morrison, of the fine
+bindings section, and even Emmy, the veteran inspector. All shook their
+heads. They had come down one morning, and there he was selling books.
+That had been two weeks previous. Someone had pulled some wires and here
+he was. By-and-by the rush would be over, then out he would go. That was
+the way things were done at Christmas time. It wasn't worth while to care
+too much!
+
+But Lucile did care. Her curiosity had been aroused. She wanted to know
+more about Laurie Seymour.
+
+Her curiosity was given a trace of satisfaction that very evening. At
+least she found out who knew about Laurie. Yes, she found out, but
+then----
+
+She had come hurrying round a pillar when she all but ran into Laurie. He
+had been talking in low tones and laughing in notes quite as low. To her
+great surprise she saw that the person he was talking to was none other
+than the perfectly beautiful Miss Bruce, the head of the section.
+
+"And to think," Lucile said to herself, "he actually appeared to be
+joking her about something! And he a sales-person! Ah well, our chief is
+a star--would have been a star on any stage, and a star has a right to be
+friendly with any member of the cast."
+
+"Well," she smiled to herself, "I know now who could tell me all about
+Laurie Seymour; but I'd never dare ask. Never! I'll have to find out some
+other way."
+
+One impression coming from this incident bore down heavily upon her.
+Laurie Seymour was a young man with a past broader than the four walls of
+the juvenile book section. Just what that past might have been, she could
+not guess.
+
+"Perhaps," she told herself, "he is some artist getting pictures from
+life; or an actor gathering local color for a play, or--"
+
+"Is your table in order?" It was Rennie who broke in upon her
+meditations.
+
+It wasn't, so she hurried away to forget, for the time being, Laurie
+Seymour and her perplexing problems.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII
+                          CORDIE'S MAD FLIGHT
+
+
+"Cordie, there's something I should tell you."
+
+Cordie looked up from the book she was reading, stared at Lucile for a
+moment, then with a toss of her pretty head exclaimed: "If you should,
+why don't you?"
+
+They were at the end of another day. Some time had passed since the
+Mystery Lady had last appeared in the store. Work had increased; crowds
+of buyers had grown denser, more insistent in their demands. Two
+perpendicular lines had appeared between Lucile's eyes. Cordie, too, had
+felt the strain of it. Her nerves were tense. She had been upon Lucile's
+bed for a half hour, trying to relax. It was no use.
+
+"Why don't you tell me?" she demanded impatiently.
+
+"I'm afraid it may frighten you."
+
+"Frighten me?" the girl's eyes went wide with surprise.
+
+"Yes, but I think I should tell you. It may put you on your guard."
+
+Cordie sat bolt upright.
+
+"Do you remember the time I found you--when you fainted in the Art
+Museum?" Lucile asked in a quiet voice.
+
+"I couldn't forget that. Wasn't it terrible?"
+
+"More terrible than you think, or at least I believe it might have been."
+
+"Why?" Cordie stared.
+
+"A few seconds after you fainted, a strange young man picked you up in
+his arms. He said you were his sister. He started to carry you out and
+would have, too, if I hadn't made the guard stop him."
+
+"Oh!" breathed Cordie, wild eyed, incredulous. "So that was what the
+guard meant when he asked where my brother was? Oh, how--how sort of
+romantic!"
+
+"It may have been," said Lucile in a very sober tone. "He may have been
+romantic, but he also may have been very bad. That's why I thought you
+ought to know. He may be keeping a watch on you. Men who are fascinated
+by a face often do. You ought not to go alone upon the streets. You
+should not have been alone that day. No girl from the country,
+unacquainted with the ways of the city, is safe alone upon its streets
+and within its public buildings."
+
+"Why, I'm not--" Cordie halted in the midst of the sentence and began
+again. "Did you think--" then drawing her lips tight as if to keep in a
+secret that was about to escape, she lapsed into silence.
+
+When she broke the silence a moment later the look on her face was very
+serious. "I do realize the danger," she said slowly. "Truly I do. I will
+be careful, very, very careful. It was wonderful of you to save me from
+that--that man. How can I ever thank you enough?"
+
+Hopping down from the bed, she wound her arm about Lucile and planted a
+kiss upon her forehead.
+
+Just at that instant a question entered Lucile's mind. "I wonder when her
+appreciation will reach down as deep as her pocketbook? That's a sordid
+thought. I ought not to think it," she told herself, "but I just can't
+help it."
+
+Lucile was having to pay an increased rent on her room because of the
+girl's occupying it with her. A pay day had come and gone, yet her young
+charge had shown no desire to bear her share of this burden.
+
+"No! No! I mustn't let myself wonder that," Lucile corrected herself
+stoutly. "She'll pay when she can. She's probably saving up for her rent
+which is in arrears somewhere else. I do wonder, though, what she was
+about to tell me when she said: 'I'm not--' and 'Did you think--' I truly
+wish she'd tell me about herself, but I can wait her time for revealing."
+
+Half of the following day had not passed before Lucile repented having
+told Cordie of her volunteer brother. "He'll probably never be seen again
+by any of us," she told herself, "and now look at the poor girl. She's
+all unnerved; grips her desk and stares in a frightened manner every time
+a man looks at her. And yet," she reflected, "if anything happened and I
+hadn't told her I'd never forgiven myself. Surely life is full of
+perplexing problems."
+
+Ere that day was done something was destined to happen which would make
+this particular problem many times more perplexing. Since she knew
+nothing of this, Lucile went serenely on selling books.
+
+"Let me tell you something," said Rennie, the veteran book-seller, who
+had apparently made an excuse for going to lunch with Lucile that day.
+"You're letting this work get on your nerves. Look at those puckers
+between your eyes. It's no use. You mustn't let it. You'll go to pieces
+and it's not worth it. You've got your life to live. You--"
+
+"But Rennie--"
+
+Rennie held up a finger for silence. "You're young; haven't learned the
+gospel of repose. You, perhaps, think of repose as the curling of one's
+self up in a soft-cushioned chair. That's not repose; it's stagnation.
+Did you ever see a tiny bird balancing himself on a twig over a rushing
+waterfall and singing his little heart away? That's repose. You can have
+poise and repose in the midst of the crowding throng. The bird, only half
+conscious of the rushing water beneath him, sings the more sweetly
+because of it. We, too, may have our service sweetened by the very rush
+of things if we will.
+
+"And it is service! You believe that, don't you?"
+
+There was a new light in the veteran saleslady's eyes. Lucile, as she
+looked at her frail body, thought to herself: "She's more spirit than
+body. She's given half herself away in service."
+
+"Why yes," she replied slowly, "I suppose selling juvenile books is a
+service in a way."
+
+"You suppose!" Rennie gripped her arm until it hurt. "Don't you know it
+is? It may be made a great, a wonderful service. There are books and
+books. You have read many of them. You know them. You are young. You have
+read. Some you have loved, some despised. Which do you sell? Which?"
+
+"Why, the ones I love, of course."
+
+"That's just it. Being endowed by nature with taste, good taste, and
+having had that taste improved by education, you are able to choose the
+best.
+
+"Books are like water. Some are like foam, the white caps of the sea;
+pure enough but effervescent. They pass in a moment and are lost forever.
+Others are like scum from a stagnant pool; they are poison. Then there
+are those blessed others which are like the cool, pure, refreshing water
+that comes bubbling up from a mountain spring. Reading has an untold and
+lasting influence on a child. Do you believe that? When you have put one
+of those better books into the hand of a boy or girl, you have conferred
+a lasting blessing upon someone. Do you believe that?"
+
+"Ye--yes."
+
+"Of course you do. Now, when you go back to your work this afternoon, do
+it with the consciousness that you are really being a benefactor to your
+generation. Say to yourself: 'See all those people. Some of these are to
+go away from here this afternoon richer because I have been here to serve
+them, to advise them, to select for them the thing they really need.'
+Then watch the little annoyances, the petty troubles that tempt you to
+fret, 'Fold their tents like the Arabs and silently steal away.'
+
+"Sales-people?" Rennie continued. "Why, we are far more than that. We
+may, if we will, take our place beside teachers, nurses, librarians, and
+all those whose names will be written high on the tablet of the future
+where will appear all those who have truly benefited their race.
+
+"Pardon me," she smiled again, "I didn't mean to preach, but really I
+hope it may do you good."
+
+"I--I'm sure it will." There was a mist in the girl's eyes as she said
+this. She had caught a vision of what real life work meant to this frail
+woman. Once more she was tempted to give up her education in favor of a
+career as a vendor of juvenile books.
+
+At ten minutes before closing time Lucile, having promised to meet Cordie
+at the northeast door, hurried down the stairs to the first floor. Then
+things began to happen with lightning-like rapidity.
+
+She had just started on her little journey across the store to the
+northeast entrance when, all in a flash, she caught sight of a hand, such
+a hand as she had seen but once and would never forget. The long, slim,
+muscular fingers and the ring of the dragon's head were there. She could
+not be mistaken. Somewhere in that jostling throng was the Mystery Lady.
+And--yes, Lucile was sure of it, there she was off there to the right.
+She could not mistake that face. With a bound she was after her.
+
+"Not so fast there! Not so fast!" exclaimed a floor man. "There isn't any
+fire. What made you think there was?"
+
+Wedged in between a tall lady from the city and a very broad-shouldered,
+bear-skin coated man from the country, Lucile could but heed the
+floorman's admonition.
+
+"She's making for the door," she whispered breathlessly. "I'll follow her
+out. Can't fail to catch her in the street. I'll get her before she has
+gone a block. And then--"
+
+Ah yes, and then--well, she'd decide what was to be done when the time
+came. She'd trust to inspiration.
+
+She did not catch up with her in the first block, nor the second or
+third, either. The sidewalks were rivers of people; the cross streets
+filled with automobiles. Considering the fact that this was an obstacle
+race of an exceedingly unusual type, the Mystery Lady made wonderful
+progress. As for Lucile, she was not to be outdone; indeed, she gained a
+little here, and a little there. She dodged through an open space on the
+sidewalk and sprinted down a stretch of street where no autos were parked
+or traveling.
+
+"I--I'll get her in the next block," she panted. "Suppose there'll be a
+scene, but who cares? Here goes!"
+
+A policeman's whistle, releasing the flood of autos on the cross street,
+had just blown. With a leap she sprang away before them. Grazed by the
+wheel of a gray sedan, drawing an angry hoot from a huge touring car, she
+crossed the channel and was about to dash on when a hand seized her
+firmly by the arm and gave her such a turn as fairly set her whirling.
+
+"Here you!" exclaimed a gruff voice. "What you tryin' to do? Tryin' to
+commit suicide? Autos has their right as well as them that walks. Give
+'em their turn, can't you?"
+
+What was there to do? She could not tell this policeman of her cause for
+speed. She could but stand there panting until he chose to release her.
+And as she stood there, with time to think, a startling question came to
+her mind: "Cordie! What of Cordie? I promised to meet her at the
+northeast entrance! Closing time has now passed."
+
+For a moment her head whirled, but as the grip on her arm relaxed she
+murmured:
+
+"Well, whatever is to happen has happened back there. I'll get
+madamoiselle of mysteries yet!"
+
+At that she crept slowly away until she was lost from sight of the
+officer; then again raced on at breakneck speed.
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+She was right. Something indeed had happened by the door of the northeast
+entrance. Cordie had been prompt in keeping her appointment; especially
+so since her nerves, disturbed by Lucile's revelation of the night
+before, were on edge.
+
+Surprised at not finding Lucile waiting for her, she had moved back into
+a secluded alcove to watch the passing throng crowd through the doors.
+
+Crowds always amused her. Some of the people were short and some tall;
+some young, some old; but all were interesting. Each had his story to
+tell if only he could be induced to tell it. This is why the flow of a
+river of people is so interesting.
+
+Just when it was that her attention was drawn from the moving throng to a
+single stationary individual, the girl could not tell. The instant she
+saw the man she felt he had been watching her; felt too that she had
+recognized in him her volunteer brother of the Art Museum.
+
+"Yes," she whispered as cold dread gripped her heart, "there is the
+hawk-like eye, the marble face. It is he. Oh! How shall I escape?"
+
+Losing her power to reason, she dashed away from the door and into the
+crowd that was now thronging toward the exits.
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+Lucile found it rather difficult to again locate the Mystery Lady. When
+at last she succeeded it was to get a good square look at her, the first
+she had been afforded.
+
+"How strangely she is dressed!" she murmured. "Like some countrywoman
+come to the city for shopping."
+
+For a second she was inclined to doubt her judgment. It could not be the
+lady--yet, yes, there was her profile. There could be no mistake; so,
+again she dashed along after her.
+
+Although she maintained a pace that appeared to be a leisurely one, the
+Mystery Lady was hard enough to overtake. Turning to the right, she
+crossed two streets to at last come out upon the Boulevard. Swinging to
+the left, she joined the home-going throng.
+
+Lucile, gaining moment by moment, was all but upon her when she turned
+quickly to enter a broad, open door.
+
+"Now I have you!" Lucile murmured.
+
+She passed through the broad door just in time to see the mysterious one
+push back a heavy curtain and disappear.
+
+Lucile was about to follow, when a guard, touching her on the shoulder,
+demanded:
+
+"Got a pass?"
+
+"Why--why no," Lucile stood there nonplussed.
+
+"This is Opera Hall. You can't go back of that curtain without a pass."
+
+"But--but that lady gave you no pass."
+
+The guard made no reply. He merely shrugged and smiled.
+
+Dropping back a step or two, Lucile stood staring at the curtain. Her
+head was whirling. What a strangely privileged woman this one must be.
+She entered and left a great department store at two hours before
+midnight, and no one said to her "No." She steps into a vestibule of a
+great musical hall and passes behind the curtain without a pass. What
+would she do next?
+
+Suspended from one brass post to another, a heavy silk rope hung before
+the curtain. There were gaps in the curtain. Through one of these gaps,
+as Lucile stood staring at it, a hand was thrust. It was the hand of the
+mysterious lady. And upon it, beside the dragon's head ring, was another.
+And this ring one more unusual and startling than the other. It was the
+iron ring of a bundle wrapper!
+
+"Cordie's ring," Lucile whispered, "and, as I live, a diamond has been
+set in it. A magnificent diamond, worth hundreds of dollars! How strange!
+How weird! A diamond set in iron!"
+
+Even as she thought this, the hand disappeared. Instantly the heavy
+purple curtain began to sway. Expecting anything, the girl stood there
+breathless. A needle flashed twice through the cloth of the curtain, then
+in its place there appeared a tiny spot of crimson.
+
+"The crimson thread!" Lucile whispered. "And I may not pass beyond the
+curtain!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII
+                       THE DIAMOND-SET IRON RING
+
+
+When Cordie fled from the man of the hawk-like eye and the marble
+features she dashed directly into the moving throng of shoppers. In this,
+however, she found scant relief. No matter which way she might turn she
+felt sure that the man pursued her and would overtake her if she did not
+flee faster and faster.
+
+Putting her utmost strength into this flight, she dashed past counters
+strewn with goods, round a bank of elevators, through narrow aisles
+jammed with shoppers, across a narrow court and again into the throng. At
+last, in utter desperation, she fled down a stairway; then another and
+another. Little dreaming that she had been descending into the very
+depths of the earth, she came up at last with a little suppressed scream
+to a place where from out a long row of small iron doors fire gleamed red
+as a noonday sun.
+
+Where was she? Surely she had not dreamed there could be such a place as
+this in a great department store.
+
+After wavering unsteadily for a moment, she turned, stumbled, righted
+herself, and would have gone racing back up the stair had not a heavy
+hand fallen upon her shoulder and a gruff, kindly voice said:
+
+"Beg pardon, Miss Cordelia, are you in trouble?"
+
+Surprised at hearing herself called by her own name, she turned about to
+find herself staring into the face of James, the bundle man.
+
+For a few seconds she wavered between pause and flight. There was,
+however, such a light of kindness in the man's eyes as could not be
+questioned. So, stepping back from the stairs, she said:
+
+"Yes, I am in trouble. The--the man; I think he was following me."
+
+"He'd do well not to follow you too far this way, if he meant you any
+harm." The bundle man shook his powerful frame, then glanced at the
+fires.
+
+"Wha--what are they?" Cordie stammered. "Where are we?"
+
+"Don't you know?" he looked incredulous. "Them's the boilers that heat
+the buildin'. I suppose you never wondered before how this huge building
+got heated? Well, that's how. Them's the boilers that does it.
+
+"Sometimes I come down here to sit after hours," he half apologized. "The
+boys down here that tends to the stokers let me come. I like it. It's the
+nearest thing to the sea that one finds about the buildin'. You see, it's
+sort of like a ship's hold where the stokers work."
+
+"Oh, you belong to the sea."
+
+"Yes, Miss. I'll tell you about it; but that will do for another time.
+You'll be going home. If it's all right, I'll see you safely on your way,
+or if you want I'll see you safely home. You need have no fear of me. I'm
+old enough to be your father, an' I took a sort of interest in you from
+the first. I'd be glad to help you--"
+
+He broke short off to stare at the door through which Cordie had entered.
+Framed by the outer darkness, a face had appeared there. However well
+shaven and massaged it might be, it was not a pleasing face to look upon
+and hawk-like eyes were set in a countenance as expressionless as marble.
+
+"That's him!" whispered James, staring as if his eyes would pop out of
+his head. "That's the very man."
+
+The next instant the man disappeared. There was reason enough for this
+too, for with every muscle of his face drawn in lines of hate, the
+stalwart James had leaped square at the door.
+
+And what of Lucile?
+
+After gazing for a moment in astonishment at the purple curtain with the
+touch of crimson shining out from it, (beyond which the Mystery Lady had
+disappeared,) she stepped close enough to make sure that same purple
+strand ran through the thread. Then she turned and walked out of the
+building.
+
+She found herself more mystified than ever. When would all this maze of
+mysteries be solved? Why had the Mystery Lady done that? Why the crimson
+thread? Why the iron ring? That was the fourth time the crimson thread
+had appeared, and this time there could be no doubt but that it had been
+she who had held the needle.
+
+Strangely enough, at this moment there flashed through her mind one
+sentence in that clipping relating to the lady who called herself the
+Spirit of Christmas.
+
+"I am the Spirit of Christmas," she whispered it as she recalled it. "I
+am the Spirit of Christmas. Wherever I go I leave my mark which is also
+my sign." She wondered vaguely what she could have meant by that.
+
+This lady of the Christmas Spirit had the whole city on tip-toes.
+Everyone was looking for her; everyone hoping to come downtown some fine
+morning to meet her and to claim her bag of gold. Shoppers gazed into
+faces of fellow shoppers to wonder: "Are you the Spirit of Christmas?
+Shall I grasp your hand?" News boys, staring up at lady customers who
+slipped them pennies for papers, wondered: "Are you the Christmas Lady?"
+
+Every day the paper told how she had been dressed on the previous day,
+where she had been and what she had done. One day, in the guise of a
+farmer's wife, she had visited the stockyards and had spent hours
+wandering through great buildings or on board-walks above the cattle. The
+next day found her again among the throngs of shoppers. Here she had
+purchased a handkerchief and there a newspaper. She described the clerk
+and the newsboy. The clerk and the boy read it and groaned. For them the
+great moment had come and was gone forever.
+
+"Who will discover her? When will it be? Who will get the gold?" These
+were the questions that were on every tongue.
+
+There could be no doubt but the paper was reaping a golden harvest from
+it, for did not everyone in the city buy a paper that they might read of
+her latest exploits and to discover where she was to be on that day, and
+to dream that this day he might be the lucky one; this day he might hear
+the gold coin jingle?
+
+Lucile thought all this through as she hurried back toward the store. At
+the same time she chided herself for being so foolish as to miss her
+appointment with Cordie for such a wild goose chase. She hoped against
+hope that she would find Cordie still waiting.
+
+She found the door closed. As she pressed her face against the glass she
+saw but one person near the entrance--the night watchman. Cordie was not
+there.
+
+"Gone," Lucile murmured. "I only hope nothing has happened to her."
+
+At that she turned about and raced away to catch an on-coming elevated
+train.
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+As James disappeared through the door of the furnace room of the
+department store, Cordie sank down in a chair. The chair was black and
+greasy, but she had no thought for that. Indeed, so excited and
+frightened was she that for a time she was unable to think clearly about
+anything.
+
+When at last the full meaning of the situation had forced its way into
+her consciousness, she leaped to her feet, exclaiming:
+
+"Stop him! Stop him! He'll be killed!"
+
+"I bet you he won't," a burly furnace tender smiled quietly. "He's a hard
+boiled egg, that boy; muscles like steel and quick as a cat. If anybody
+does him in you'll have to give him credit. Y'ought t' see him box. There
+ain't a man among us that can touch him."
+
+Somewhat reassured by this glowing description of her companion, the girl
+settled back again in her seat. She knew that she was safe enough here
+with these rough but kindly men.
+
+As she sat there thinking, there came to her mind a question. Why did
+James go into such a fit of anger at sight of the stranger at the door?
+
+"Surely," she told herself, "it could not have been because the man had
+been following me. That wouldn't be natural. James scarcely knows me. Why
+should he suddenly become such a violent champion of my cause? And
+besides, he had no way of knowing that that was the man who was following
+me. He did not wait to ask a single question; just whispered: 'That's
+him!' and rushed right at him."
+
+"No he didn't do it because of me," she concluded after a few moments of
+thought. "He's seen that man before. I wonder when and where. I wonder
+what he's done to James?"
+
+Then came another, more startling question. What would James do to the
+man if he caught him?
+
+Instantly her keen imagination was at work. Quickening her sense of
+hearing, it set her listening to sounds which she told herself were the
+dull thud of fist-blows, the sickening rush of a blade as it sped through
+the air, a low groan of pain, and then sharper, more distinct, the
+pop-pop of an automatic.
+
+In vain she told herself that with the hiss of steam, the dull thud-thud
+of revolving grates and the general noises of the boiler-room, it was
+quite impossible for her to distinguish sounds ten yards away, and that
+in all probability the two men were hundreds of feet away from her, on
+some other floor. The illusion still persisted. So certain did she become
+that a battle was being fought just outside the door that she found
+herself gripping the arms of her chair to keep from crying out.
+
+The nickel-plated clock against the wall had ticked away a full half
+hour. The suspense had grown unbearable when of a sudden, with face
+grimy, hair tousled, and clothing all awry, James appeared at the door.
+
+"You--you," Cordie started up.
+
+"Yes, miss," James grinned. "I know I look as if I'd come in from a long
+and stormy voyage. My deck needs swabbin' down and my sails a furlin',
+but I'll be shipshape and ready to take another cruise before the clock
+can strike eight bells."
+
+This talk sounded so quaint to the girl that she quite forgot the recent
+danger James had been in, and sat staring at him as he thrust his head
+into a huge basin of water and proceeded to scrub it with a course brush,
+much as one might some huge vegetable.
+
+By the aid of a comb and whisk broom, he succeeded in making himself
+presentable.
+
+"Now," he smiled a broad smile, "your Uncle James, once a seaman and now
+a land fighter, is ready to pilot you home. What's the port?"
+
+"Sixty-first and Drexel," said Cordie.
+
+"All right. Port 'er bow. We're off."
+
+Concerning his recent combat--if there had been a combat--James said not
+a word. Cordie wondered at this, but eager as she was to know the outcome
+of the battle, if there had been one, she dreaded quite as much to hear
+the whole truth. Visions of an inanimate form, lying bruised and bleeding
+in some dark corner of the stair, set her shuddering. So in the end she
+asked no question.
+
+Their passage to the upper floor and out of the building was uneventful.
+The watchman at the door recognized them and allowed them to pass.
+
+Previous to this time James had seemed quiet and uncommunicative, but now
+as they rattled along on the L train he told her many a wild tale of the
+sea journeys he had made. In his deep mellow drawl he talked of the whale
+ship _Addler_ in northern seas; of Eskimo and polar bear and the gleaming
+northern lights; and then he talked of the Cutter _Corwin_ among the palm
+shadowed South Sea Islands.
+
+It was with a real feeling of regret that Cordie, hearing her own station
+announced, realized that their visit was at an end.
+
+Five minutes later, brimming over with excitement, she burst into
+Lucile's room.
+
+"Wait!" exclaimed Lucile as she read in Cordie's eyes the story of some
+thrilling experience. "You've had an adventure. So have I. Let's not
+spoil 'em in the telling. Let's set the stage for a story. You haven't
+had a bite to eat, have you?"
+
+"No--o," Cordie admitted, "not a single bite. I'd forgotten."
+
+"Neither have I. You'll find a loaf of bread and a slice of cream pimento
+cheese in the upper dresser drawer. There are some vanilla wafers, too.
+You make the sandwiches and I'll have the cocoa piping hot in a minute.
+No, I'll tell you, let's dress for it first."
+
+Fifteen minutes later they sat in their bright colored dressing gowns,
+sipping the delicious hot beverage and hungrily devouring sandwiches.
+
+"Now," said Lucile after the last sandwich had vanished and fresh cups
+had been poured, "now's the time for spinning yarns. You tell yours
+first."
+
+With many a gesture and dramatic pause, Cordie told of her startling
+discovery, her wild dash through the throng, her descent into the depths
+of the earth, and of the strange doings down there beneath the surface of
+the city's streets.
+
+"Yes," said Lucile, sipping her chocolate thoughtfully as Cordie's
+narrative ended, "that surely was the young man who attempted to carry
+you away when you fainted in the Art Museum. Dear little girl, you must
+be careful, very careful indeed. You must never be left alone; never!
+Never! Even if the Mystery Woman beckons or the Lady of the Christmas
+Spirit clinks her gold in my very ears, I will not desert you again."
+
+It was a very warm and friendly hand that Lucile felt tucked into her
+own, and a suspiciously husky voice that said:
+
+"Thank you, my dear big sister.
+
+"But," Cordie exclaimed suddenly, "I must not tell them. It would never
+do. They wouldn't let me----"
+
+Suddenly checking her speech as if about to unwittingly reveal a secret,
+she changed the subject abruptly. "Please tell me of your adventure," she
+said.
+
+"My adventure?" smiled Lucile. "Compared with yours, it was no adventure
+at all--merely an episode. However, since it throws some light on a
+mystery and reveals the whereabouts of a bit of stolen property, I must
+tell you about it."
+
+Then, while Cordie leaned back among the cushions, her eyes half closed
+as if she were day dreaming, Lucile told of her experience with the
+Mystery Lady.
+
+"My iron ring!" exclaimed Cordie, sitting bolt upright as Lucile came to
+that part of the story. "My iron ring! The old mischief! I might have
+known! I----"
+
+Again Cordie checked herself.
+
+"Might have known what?" asked Lucile.
+
+"Might have known that someone had stolen it, I suppose," finished Cordie
+lamely. "Anyway, someone did, didn't they? And isn't it funny that she
+should have a diamond set in it? Wouldn't it be a joke to come upon her
+wearing it? Wouldn't it, though? I'd march right up and say, 'Lay-d-e-e
+give me the ring! You stole it. My precious, my onliest, only iron
+ring!'" She threw back her head and laughed.
+
+Lucile joined her in the laugh, and with this forgot for a time that
+Cordie had said something very unusual about the ring and the lady who
+had taken it. At last Cordie broke the silence:
+
+"James is a very unusual person."
+
+"Yes, he must be."
+
+"Do you suppose he caught that man--the one who had been following me?"
+
+"I hope so, but perhaps not. You say he was all mussed up when he came
+back?"
+
+"Uh-huh."
+
+"But not bruised, nor bloody, nor anything like that?"
+
+"No, I guess not--no, not a bit."
+
+"Then probably he didn't. When I got through my wild race about the place
+the other night I was good and mussed up, and I hadn't been in a fight
+either. It wouldn't be easy to catch anyone in that labyrinth."
+
+Again there was silence for a little while.
+
+"Lucile," whispered Cordie, bending forward eagerly, her face alight with
+some strange idea. "James is so mysterious. Do you suppose he could be a
+pirate in hiding?"
+
+"A pirate! Why child, there aren't any pirates."
+
+"Not any at all?"
+
+"You don't read about any, do you?"
+
+"You don't read about lots of things. You never read about my wrapping
+bundles, did you? But I am, just the same. Everything doesn't get in the
+papers. I think it would be wonderful if he turned out to be a real
+pirate. You'd think he was one if you heard some of the stories he told
+me to-night about the sea."
+
+"All right," laughed her companion, "if you can make him out a pirate, a
+nice friendly sort of pirate who is kind to ladies and all that, you're
+welcome. But for my part, I'd give a lot more to know what that self
+appointed brother of yours has done to James. It must have been something
+rather terrible."
+
+"Yes," agreed Cordie, "it surely must."
+
+"Listen!" exclaimed Lucile. "There go the chimes! Ten o'clock, and you
+work in the morning!"
+
+Leaping from her chair, she began cleaning up the remnants of their
+little feast. Ten minutes later the room was darkened for the night.
+
+Though the room was dark, and though Lucile was tired enough for sleep,
+her eyes did not close at once. She was thinking and her thoughts were
+not of the most cheerful sort.
+
+The outlook, she was forced to admit, was gloomy enough. She had hoped to
+save enough money from her pay at the store to start her in the new term
+at school. This hope was fast dwindling away. Her own expenses had been
+greater than she had thought they would be. Added to this was the
+increase in her room rent due to the presence of Cordie. Her dream that
+Cordie was saving money had been blighted only the night before, for on
+that night Cordie had brought home the gorgeous dressing gown she had
+worn as they sat over the cocoa cups.
+
+"And it must have cost her every penny she possessed," groaned Lucile.
+"How extravagant! How--how----"
+
+She wanted to say ungrateful, but could not quite do it. The girl
+appeared so impractical, so lovable, so irresponsible, that she could not
+find the heart to blame her.
+
+Quickly she switched her thoughts to a more cheering subject--Laurie
+Seymour. He had proven such a jolly fellow-worker--so cheerful, so kind
+and helpful, so ever ready to bear the heavy burdens--that Lucile had all
+but forgotten the fact that he had given his pass-out to the Mystery Lady
+on that night when she had in such a surprising manner come into the
+possession of the valuable fur lined cape. Equally strange was the fact
+that she had come to think of the Mystery Lady in a new way. She found
+that she could no longer think of the lady as a thief.
+
+"And yet," she mused, "what could have been her reason for haunting our
+store at that hour of the night? Why should she have left the cape?"
+
+The cape. Ah yes, there was vexation enough in that! Too precious to be
+worn to work, it had hung for days in Lucile's closet while she had gone
+to work all too scantily clad in a sweater and broad scarf. She wished
+that she might have her own coat. Poor as it might be, it was at least
+her own and it was comfortable.
+
+Next morning, having arrived at the door of the store a full fifteen
+minutes before the opening hour, the two girls were enjoying a few
+moments of window shopping before the gorgeous windows of State street.
+Suddenly, above the rattle of distant elevated trains and the honk of
+auto horns, Lucile caught clear and distinct the calling neigh of a
+horse.
+
+Wheeling quickly about, she stared around her. True enough, there were
+still many horses on the streets of the city, but where before, in the
+din and rattle of the streets, had she caught that one clear call of a
+horse?
+
+What she saw caused her to start and stare. Cordie was no longer at her
+side. Instead she was in imminent danger of being run down by a cab as
+she dashed madly across the street toward the spot where, like a statue
+in blue, a young policeman sat rigidly erect on his police horse.
+
+The thing the girl did, once she had safely crossed the street, was even
+more surprising. Without the least glance at the young policeman, she
+threw both arms about the horse's neck and hid her face in his mane.
+
+Far from objecting to this unusual procedure, the horse appeared to
+rather enjoy it. As for the stern young minion of the law, he was so
+overcome by surprise that he did not alter his statue-like pose by so
+much as a movement of a finger.
+
+Lucile flew across the street.
+
+"Cordie! Cordie! What in the world are you doing?" she fairly screamed.
+
+Paying not the least attention to this, Cordie repeated over and over:
+"Dick, you old darling. Dear old Dick. You knew me, Dick, you did! You
+did!"
+
+This lasted for a full moment. Then, appearing to come to herself, the
+girl dropped her hands and stepped back upon the sidewalk.
+
+One glance at the stern young officer, and a quite different emotion
+swept over her. Her face turned crimson as she stammered:
+
+"Oh, what have I done? I--I beg--beg your pardon."
+
+"It's all right," grinned the young man, coming to life with a broad
+smile. "Friend of yours, I take it?"
+
+"Yes--Oh yes,--a very, very good friend."
+
+"My name's Patrick O'Hara," there was a comradely tone now in the young
+officer's voice. "He's a friend of mine too, and a mighty good one.
+Shake." Solemnly drawing off his gauntlet, he swung half way out of his
+saddle to grasp the girl's hand.
+
+"Thanks. Thanks awfully. Is this--this where you always stay? I--I'd like
+to see Dick real often."
+
+"This is my beat; from here to the next cross street and back again. I'm
+here every morning from seven to one. We--we--Dick, I mean, will be glad
+to see you." The way he smiled as he looked at Cordie's deep colored,
+dimpled cheeks, her frank blue eyes, her crinkly hair, said plainer than
+words: "Dick won't be the only one who will be glad to see you."
+
+"Lucile," implored Cordie, "I wish you'd do me a favor. I haven't a lump
+of sugar for poor old Dick. I can't leave him this way. I--I never have.
+Won't you please talk to this--this policeman until I can go to the
+restaurant on the corner and get some?"
+
+"It's all right, Miss--Miss----"
+
+"Cordie," prompted the girl.
+
+"It's all right, Cordie," Patrick O'Hara grinned, "I'll not run away.
+Duty calls me, though. I must ride up a block and back again. I--I'll
+make it snappy. Be back before you are."
+
+Touching Dick with his spurless heel and patting him gently on the neck,
+he went trotting away.
+
+Five minutes later, the lump of sugar ceremony having been performed to
+the complete satisfaction of both Dick and Cordie, the girls hurried away
+to the scenes of their daily labors.
+
+This little drama made a profound impression upon Lucile. For one thing,
+it convinced her that in spite of her expensive and stylish lingerie,
+Cordie was indeed a little country girl. "For," Lucille told herself,
+"that horse, Dick, came from the country. All horses do. He's been a pet
+of Cordie's back there on the farm. His owner, perhaps her own father,
+has sold him to some city dealer. And because he is such a thorobred and
+such a fine up-standing beauty, he has been made a police horse. I don't
+blame her for loving him. Anyone would. But it shows what a splendid,
+affectionate girl she is.
+
+"I'm sort of glad," she told herself a moment later, "that she's gotten
+acquainted with that young officer, Patrick O'Hara. He seems such a nice
+sort of boy, and then you can never tell how soon you're going to need a
+policeman as a friend; at least it seems so from what happened last
+night."
+
+She might have shuddered a little had she known how prophetic these
+thoughts were. As it was, she merely smiled as she recalled once more how
+her impetuous little companion had raced across the streets to throw her
+arms about the neck of a horse ridden by a strange policeman.
+
+"I wonder," she said finally, "I do wonder why Cordie does not confide in
+me? Oh well," she sighed, "I can only wait. The time will come."
+
+Had she but known it, Cordie had reasons enough; the strangest sort of
+reasons, too.
+
+It was in the forenoon of that same day that a rather surprising thing
+happened, a thing that doubled the mystery surrounding the attractive
+young salesman, Laurie.
+
+Lucile was delivering a book to a customer. Laurie was waiting at the
+desk for change and at the same time whispering to Cordie, when of a
+sudden his eyes appeared ready to start from his head as he muttered:
+
+"There's Sam!"
+
+The next instant, leaving wrapped package, change and customer, he
+disappeared as if the floor had dropped from beneath him.
+
+"Where's Laurie?" Cordie asked a moment later. "His customer's waiting
+for her change."
+
+Though Lucile didn't know where he was, she was quite sure he would not
+return, at least he would not until a certain short, broad-shouldered
+man, who carried a large brief case and stood talking to Rennie, had left
+the section. She felt very sure that Laurie wished to escape meeting this
+man.
+
+"That man must be Sam," Lucile thought to herself as she volunteered to
+complete Laurie's sale. "Now I wonder what makes him so much afraid of
+that man!
+
+"He looks like a detective," she thought to herself as she got a better
+look at him. "No, he smiles too much for that. Must be a salesman trying
+to get Rennie to buy more books."
+
+The conversation she overheard tended to confirm this last.
+
+"Make it a thousand," he said with a smile.
+
+"I won't do it!" Rennie threw her hands up in mock horror.
+
+"Oh! All right," Sam smiled. "Anything you say."
+
+Having been called away by a rush of customers, Lucile had quite
+forgotten both Laurie and Sam when she came suddenly upon the large brief
+case which Sam had carried. It was lying on her table.
+
+"Whose is that?" a voice said over her shoulder. "That's Sam's, confound
+him! He's always leaving things about. Now he'll have to come back for it
+and I'll--"
+
+"Who's Sam?" Lucile asked.
+
+She turned about to receive the answer. The answer did not come. For a
+second time that day Laurie had vanished.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX
+                               HER DOUBLE
+
+
+"Two more shopping days before Christmas," Lucile read these words in the
+paper on the following morning as she stepped into the elevator which was
+to take her to a day of strenuous labor. She read them and sighed. Then,
+of a sudden, she started and stared. The cause of this sudden change was
+the elevator girl.
+
+"Why, Florence!" she exclaimed half incredulous. "You here?"
+
+"Sure. Why not?" smiled the big, athletic looking girl who handled the
+elevator with skill.
+
+"Well, I didn't know--"
+
+"Didn't know I needed the money badly enough," laughed Florence. "Well, I
+do. Seems that one is always running out of cash, especially when it
+comes near to Christmas. I was getting short, so I came down here and
+they gave me this job. Thought I could stand the rush I guess," she
+smiled as she put one arm about her former chum in a bear-like embrace.
+
+If you have read our other books, "The Cruise of the O'Moo" and "The
+Secret Mark," you will remember that these two girls had been the best of
+chums. But a great University is a place of many changes. Their paths had
+crossed and then they had gone in diverging ways. Now they were more than
+pleased to find that, for a time, they were employed in the same store.
+
+"Speaking of Christmas," said Florence, "since I haven't any grand
+Christmas surprises coming from other people, I've decided to buy myself
+a surprise."
+
+"How can you do that?" asked Lucile, a look of incredulity on her face.
+
+"Why, you see----"
+
+"Here's my floor. See you later." Lucile sprang from the elevator and was
+away.
+
+"It's nice to meet old friends," the elevator girl thought to herself as
+she went speeding up the shaft, "especially when the holiday season is
+near. I must try to see more of Lucile."
+
+Running an elevator in a department store is a dull task. Little enough
+adventure in that, you might say, except when your cable begins to slip
+with a full load on board. But Florence was destined to come under the
+spell of mystery and to experience thrilling adventure before her short
+service as an elevator girl came to an end.
+
+Mystery came leaping at her right out of the morning. She left her car in
+the basement and went for a drink. She was gone but a second. When she
+came back the elevator door was closed and the cage cables in motion.
+
+"Gone!" she whispered. "I never heard of such a thing. Who could have
+taken it?
+
+"Might have been the engineer taking it for a testing trip," she thought
+after a few seconds of deliberation. "But no, that doesn't seem probable.
+He'd not be down this early. But who could it be? And why did they do
+it?"
+
+If the disappearance of her car had been startling, the thing she
+witnessed three minutes later was many times more so.
+
+With fast beating heart she saw the shadow of the car move down from
+fifth floor to fourth, from fourth to third, then saw the car itself
+cover the remaining distance to the basement.
+
+Her knees trembled with excitement and fear as she watched the cage in
+its final drop. The excitement was born of curiosity; the fear was that
+this should mean the last of her position. She had never been discharged
+and this gave her an unwonted dread of it.
+
+The car came to a stop at the bottom. Three passengers got off and one
+got on, and the car shot upward again. And Florence did nothing but stand
+there and stare in astonishment!
+
+Had she seen a ghost, a ghost of herself? What had happened? Her head was
+in a whirl. The girl at the lever was herself. Broad shoulders, large
+hands, round cheeks, blue eyes, brown hair, even to freckles that yielded
+not to winters indoors. It was her own self, to the life.
+
+"And yet," she reasoned, "here I am down here. What shall I do?"
+
+As she faced the situation more calmly, she realized that the girl
+driving her car must be her double, her perfect double. She remembered
+reading somewhere that everyone in the world had a double. And here was
+hers. But why had her double made up her hair in her exact fashion,
+donned an elevator girl's uniform and taken her elevator from her?
+
+"That is what I must find out," she told herself.
+
+"There's no use making a scene by jumping in and demanding my cage," she
+reasoned, after a moment's reflection. "I'll just get on as a passenger
+and ride up with her."
+
+There was something of a thrill in this affair. She was beginning to
+enjoy it.
+
+"It's--why, it's fairly mysterious," she breathed.
+
+In spite of all, she found herself anticipating the next move in the
+little drama. Driving an elevator was frightfully dull business. Going up
+and down, up and down; answering innumerable questions all day long about
+the location of silks, shoes, baby rattle, nutmeg graters, boxing gloves,
+garters and fly-swatters--this was a dull task that tended to put one to
+sleep. And often enough, after her noon luncheon, she actually had to
+fight off sleep. But here, at last, was a touch of mystery, romance and
+adventure.
+
+"My double," she breathed. "I'll find out who she is and why she did
+this, or die in the attempt."
+
+Again the cage moved downward.
+
+This time, as the last customer moved out of the door, she stepped in.
+Moving to the back of the car, she stood breathlessly waiting for the
+next move of her mysterious double.
+
+The move did not come at once; in fact she had to wait there in the back
+of the car a surprisingly long time. The girl at the lever--her
+double--had poise, this was easy enough seen, and she had operated an
+elevator before, too. She brought the cage to its position at each floor
+with an exactness and precision that could but be admired.
+
+The cage filled at the first floor. It began to empty at the third. By
+the time they had reached the eleventh, only two passengers, beside
+Florence, remained in the back of the car. Only employees went beyond the
+eleventh; the floors above were stock rooms.
+
+The girl at the lever threw back a fleeting glance. Florence thought she
+was about to speak, but she did not.
+
+The car went to the thirteenth landing. There two people got off and
+three got on. Florence remained. The car dropped from floor to floor
+until they were again in the basement. Once more the mysterious double
+gave Florence a fleeting glance. She did not speak. Florence did not move
+from her place in the corner. The car rose again. To Florence the
+situation was growing tense, unbearable.
+
+Again the car emptied. At the eleventh floor Florence found herself in
+the car alone with her double. This gave her a strange, frightened
+feeling, but she resolutely held her place.
+
+"Say!" exclaimed the girl, turning about as the car moved slowly upward.
+"Let me run your car, will you? Take my place, won't you? You won't have
+a thing to do. It--it'll be a lark." As she said all this in a whisper
+there was a tense eagerness on her face that Florence could not miss.
+
+"But--but your car?" she managed to whisper back.
+
+"Haven't any. Don't go on until to-morrow. Here's my locker key. Get--get
+my coat and furs and hat out and wear them. Stay in the store--Book
+Section and Rest Room. All you have to do.
+
+"Only," she added as an afterthought, "if someone speaks to you, tells
+you something, you say, 'Oh! All right.' Just like that. And if they ask
+you what you said, you repeat. That's all you'll have to do."
+
+"Oh, but I can't--"
+
+"It isn't anything bad," the other girl put in hastily. There was a sort
+of desperate eagerness about the tense lines of her face. They were
+nearing the thirteenth floor. "Not a thing that's bad--nor--nor anything
+you wouldn't gladly do yourself. I--I'll explain some time. On--only do
+it, will you?"
+
+They had reached the thirteenth floor. She pressed the key in Florence's
+reluctant hand.
+
+A tall man, with an arm load of socks in bundles, got on the car. He
+looked at Florence. He looked at her double. Then he stared at both of
+them. After that his large mouth spread apart in a broad grin as he
+chuckled:
+
+"Pretty good. Eh?"
+
+Three minutes later Florence found herself in a kind of daze, standing at
+the tenth floor landing, staring down at her steadily dropping car.
+
+"Oh, well," she whispered, shaking herself out of her daze, "sort of a
+lark, I suppose. No harm in it. Might as well have a half day off." With
+that she turned and walked toward the locker room.
+
+The coat and hat she took from the mysterious one's locker were very
+plain and somewhat worn, not as good as her own. But the fur throw was a
+thing to marvel at; a crossed fox, the real thing, no dyed imitation, and
+so richly marked with gray that it might easily be taken for a silver
+gray.
+
+"Some strange little combination," she breathed as she threw the fur
+about her neck and started once more for the elevator.
+
+As a proof of the fact that she was carrying out her share of the
+compact, she waited for her own elevator. The strange girl shot her a
+quick smile as she entered and another as she got off on the third floor
+where was the rest room and book section.
+
+"Seems terribly queer to be walking around in another girl's clothes,"
+she whispered to herself as she drifted aimlessly past rows of people
+resting in leather cushioned chairs. "Especially when that other girl is
+someone you've spoken to but once in your life. I wonder--I do wonder why
+I did it?"
+
+She meditated on this question until she had reached the book section.
+
+"It was the look in her eyes; an eager, haunted look. She's all right,
+I'd swear to that, and she's in some sort of trouble that's not all her
+own fault. Trouble," she mused. "Part of our reason for being here in the
+world is that we may help others out of trouble. I--I guess I'm glad I
+did it."
+
+Of this last she could not be sure. She had sometimes been mistaken, had
+bestowed confidence and assistance on persons who were unworthy. Should
+this girl prove to be such a person, then she might be helping her to get
+away with some unlawful act. And she might lose her position, too.
+
+"Oh well," she sighed at last, "it's done. I'll lose my memory of it here
+among the books." To one who is possessed of a real love for books, it is
+a simple task to forget all else in a room where there are thousands of
+them. So completely did Florence forget that she soon lost all
+consciousness of the role she was playing, and when a rough looking man
+with a seafaring roll to his walk came marching toward her she could do
+nothing but stare at him. And when he said, "Howdy Meg," she only stared
+the harder.
+
+"The train leaves at eleven thirty," he said, twisting his well worn cap
+in his nervous fingers.
+
+"The--the--" she hesitated. Then of a sudden the words of the girl came
+back to her.
+
+"Oh! All right," she said in as steady a tone as she could command.
+
+"What say?" asked the man.
+
+"I said 'Oh, all right.'"
+
+"Right it is, then," he said and, turning about, disappeared behind a
+pile of books.
+
+With her head in a whirl, the girl stood and stared after him.
+
+"The train leaves at eleven thirty," she whispered. It was a few minutes
+past ten now. Should she go and tell the girl? She had not been
+instructed in this regard. What sort of an affair was this she was
+getting into, anyway? Was this girl hiding from her people, attempting to
+run away? The man had looked rough enough, but he had looked honest, too.
+
+She had wandered about the place in uncertainty for another half hour.
+Then a kindly faced women, in a sort of uniform and a strange hat with
+gold lettered "Seaman's Rest" on its band, accosted her.
+
+"Why, Meg!" she exclaimed. "You still here? The train leaves at
+eleven-thirty."
+
+There it was again. This time she did not forget.
+
+"Oh! All right!" she exclaimed and turning hurried away as if to make a
+train.
+
+An hour later, still very much puzzled and not a little worried, she
+returned to the locker room, took off the borrowed clothes, gave the
+wonderful fox fur a loving pat, deposited it with the coat and hat, then
+locked the door.
+
+After that she went to her own locker, put on her wraps preparatory to
+going to lunch, then walked over to the elevator.
+
+A moment's wait brought her car to her. The other girl was still
+operating skillfully. Florence pressed the locker key into the girl's
+hand and stepped to the back of the car. Five minutes later she found
+herself in the crisp air of a midwinter day.
+
+"And to think," she whispered to herself, "that I'd do that for a total
+stranger."
+
+As she ate her lunch a resolve, one of the strongest she had ever made,
+formed itself in her mind. She would become acquainted with her
+mysterious double and would learn her secret.
+
+"The train leaves at eleven-thirty," she mused. "Well, wherever it might
+have been going, it's gone." She glanced at the clock which read
+twelve-fifteen.
+
+And then, of a sudden, all thought of the other girl and her affairs was
+blotted out by a resolve she had made that very morning. This was Friday.
+Day after to-morrow was Christmas. She wanted a surprise on Christmas.
+She had started to tell Lucile about it that morning, but while just in
+the middle of the story the elevator had reached the Book Department and
+Lucile had hurried away. Soon after came the strange experience of
+meeting her double and Florence had quite forgotten all about it until
+this very minute.
+
+"Have to provide my own surprise," she said to herself, while thinking it
+through. "But how am I to surprise myself?"
+
+This had taken a great deal of thinking, but in the end she hit upon the
+very thing. Her old travelling bag had gone completely to pieces on her
+last trip. Her father had sent her fifteen dollars for the purchase of a
+new one. She had the money still. She would buy a travelling bag with a
+surprise in it.
+
+Only a few days before, a friend had told her how this might be done.
+Every great hotel has in its store room a great deal of baggage which no
+one claims; such as hat boxes, trunks, bags and bundles. Someone leaves
+his baggage as security for a bill. He does not return. Someone leaves
+his trunk in storage. He too disappears. Someone dies. In time all this
+baggage is sold at an auctioneer's place to the highest bidders. They
+have all been sealed when placed in the store room, and here they are,
+trunks, bundles and bags, all to be sold with "contents if any."
+
+"With contents if any." Florence had read that sentence over many times
+as she finished scanning the notice of an auction that was to be held
+that very afternoon and night.
+
+"With contents if any," that was where her surprise was to come in. She
+would pick out a good bag that had a woman's name on it, or one that at
+least looked as if a woman had owned it, and she would bid it in. Then
+the bag would be hers, and the "contents if any." She thrilled at the
+thought. Her friend had told of diamond rings, of gold watches, of a
+string of pearls, of silks and satins and silver jewel boxes that had
+come from these mysterious sealed bags and trunks.
+
+"Of course," Florence assured herself, "there won't be anything like that
+in my bag, but anyway there'll be a surprise. What fun it will be, on my
+birthday, to turn the key to the bag and to peep inside.
+
+"I know the afternoon is going to drag terribly. I do wish I could go
+now," she sighed, "but I can't. I do hope they don't sell all the nice
+bags before I get there."
+
+With this she rose from the table, paid her check and went back to her
+elevator, still wondering about her mysterious double and still dreaming
+of her birthday surprise.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X
+                         CORDIE'S STRANGE RIDE
+
+
+Twice a day, after Cordie had discovered him, the police horse, Dick, had
+a lump of sugar--one in the morning and another at noon. And Mounted
+Officer Patrick O'Hara, very young, quite handsome and somewhat dashing,
+received a smile with each lump of sugar. It would have been hard to tell
+which enjoyed his portion the most, Dick or Patrick O'Hara.
+
+Apparently nothing could have pleased Cordie more than this discovery of
+an old friend. Yes, there was one other thing that would have pleased her
+much more. She found herself longing for it more and more. Every time she
+saw the horse she secretly yearned for this privilege.
+
+And then, quite surprisingly, the opportunity came. It was noon. Having
+come out from the store to give Dick his daily portion, she was surprised
+to find him standing alone, head down, and patiently waiting. A glance
+down the street told her there had been an auto collision in the middle
+of the block; not a serious one probably, as the cars did not seem badly
+smashed, but of course Patrick O'Hara had gone over there to take down
+the numbers. Since traffic had been jammed, he had dismounted and walked.
+
+"Wha--what a chance," Cordie breathed, her heart skipping a beat. "Do I
+dare?"
+
+She looked up at the splendid saddle with its broad circle of brass and
+other trappings. She studied Dick's smooth, sleek sides.
+
+"I know I shouldn't," she whispered, "but I do so want to. Dick, do you
+suppose he'd care?"
+
+The temptation was growing stronger. Glancing down the street, she caught
+a glimpse of Patrick O'Hara's cap above the crowd. His back was turned.
+The temptation was no longer to be resisted. With a touch and a spring,
+light as air, Cordie leaped into the saddle.
+
+"Just for old times," she whispered.
+
+She had meant to hover there for an instant, then to leap right down
+again. But alas for the best laid plans. Old Dick had apparently
+remembered things about the past which she had quite forgotten, and with
+a wild snort his head went up, his four feet came together, and with a
+leap that completely cleared him from the autos that blocked his way, he
+went tearing down the street.
+
+For a second the girl's head was in a whirl. So unexpected was this mad
+dash that she was all but thrown from the saddle. Apparently an
+experienced rider, she regained her balance, clung to the pommel of the
+saddle for an instant, then gripping the reins, she screamed:
+
+"Whoa, Dick! Whoa! Whoa!"
+
+Had her scream been "Go Dick! Go!" it would not have had a different
+effect. He simply redoubled his speed.
+
+Then it was that the State Street throng of shoppers viewed a performance
+that was not on the program and one they would not soon forget--a
+hatless, coatless girl, hair flying, cheeks aflame, dashing madly down
+the street astride a sturdy police horse.
+
+Some laughed, some cheered, others gasped in astonishment and fright. A
+corner policeman leaped for the reins, but missed. Panic spread through
+the cross streets. It was a bad morning for jay-walkers. Having failed to
+see the on-coming charger, they would leap boldly before a slow-moving
+auto to give one startled look upward, then to register the blankest
+surprise and shy suddenly backward. Had it not been such a serious
+business, Cordie would have laughed at the expressions on their faces;
+but this was no laughing matter. To all appearances she had stolen a
+policeman's horse, and that in broad daylight.
+
+Suddenly a second police horse swung out into the street.
+
+"Stop! Stop! I arrest you!" shouted the rider.
+
+"That's easy said," the girl murmured in an agony of fear lest Dick
+should trample someone under his feet. "It's easy said. I wish you
+would."
+
+Evidently Dick did not agree with these sentiments, for the instant he
+sensed this rival his head went higher, a great snort escaped his
+nostrils and he was away with a fresh burst of speed which left the
+surprised officer three lengths behind.
+
+"Oh! Oh! What shall I do!" groaned the girl.
+
+The more she tugged at the reins the faster flew Dick's splendid limbs.
+He had the bit between his teeth.
+
+Suddenly, as if aggravated by the crowds that threatened to block his
+way, he whirled to a side street and went dashing toward the Boulevard.
+
+"The Boulevard! Oh, the Boulevard! We will be killed!"
+
+Before them lay the Boulevard where autos, thick as bees in clover, raced
+forward at twenty miles an hour. What chance could there be of escape?
+
+Trust a horse. While pedestrians stared and screamed in terror, while
+policemen vainly blew whistles and auto drivers set brakes screaming,
+Dick, without slackening his pace, raced ahead of a yellow limousine,
+grazed a black sedan, sent a flivver to the curb, and with one
+magnificent leap cleared the sidewalk and the low chain at its edge,
+landing squarely upon the soft, yielding turf of the park.
+
+"Ah, that's better," he all but seemed to say. Then, heading south along
+the narrow park that extended straight away for a mile, he continued his
+mad career.
+
+Cordie, risking one backward look, gasped in consternation and fear.
+
+"Dick, Dick, you old villain! You've got me in for life! Never, never
+again!"
+
+Three policemen, each mounted on his steed, came dashing after her in mad
+pursuit.
+
+A straight, broad course lay before them; a pretty enough course to tempt
+anyone. Seeming to gain new strength from the very touch of it, Dick
+gripped his bit and fairly flew.
+
+And Cordie, in spite of her predicament, regardless of impending arrest,
+was actually getting a thrill out of it. For one thing, there were now no
+pedestrians to be run down. The park was deserted. For another thing,
+ahead of Dick lay a clear stretch of turf which she hoped would satisfy
+his lust for speed.
+
+Finding herself in a more cheerful frame of mind, Cordie took to studying
+her pursuers. That they were of different ages she guessed more by the
+way they rode than by a clear view of their faces; Dick had left them too
+far behind for that. The foremost rider was a man of thirty-five or so, a
+stern minion of the law, and he was plainly angry. It had been he who had
+informed her on State Street that she was arrested. He had an unusually
+long nose--she remembered that. He rode a poor mount very badly indeed.
+The punishment he was getting, as he jounced up and down in the saddle,
+he would doubtless attempt to pass on to her and to Dick. She ardently
+wished that he might never catch up, but realized at the same time that
+it could not well be avoided. The race must come to a close.
+
+The other policemen were different. One was heavy and well past middle
+age; the other young, perhaps no older than Patrick O'Hara. They rode
+with the easy grace of an aged and a young cowboy. She had seen some like
+that in the movies not so long ago. She fancied she saw a smile on the
+younger man's face. Perhaps he was enjoying the race. She sincerely hoped
+he might be, and the older man, too. As for the one of the long nose--not
+a chance.
+
+All things have an end. Dick's race did. Having come close to an iron
+fence, beyond which towered a brick structure, he appeared to assume that
+he had reached the goal. Dropping to a slow trot, he circled gracefully
+to the right, and as he came to a standstill he threw his head high as
+much as to say:
+
+"We won, didn't we; and by a handsome margin!"
+
+"Yes, you old goose," the girl breathed. "And now, instead of a blue
+ribbon for you and a purse for me, we get an invite to some dirty old
+police court."
+
+There was no time for further thought. The foremost policeman, he of the
+long nose, rode up and snatching at the reins, snarled:
+
+"Suppose you call that smart, you--you flapper!"
+
+Staring angrily at the girl, he gave Dick's rein such a yank as threw the
+magnificent horse on his haunches.
+
+Instantly Cordie's eyes flashed fire. They might take her to jail and
+welcome; but abuse Dick he might not!
+
+Dick, however, proved quite equal to caring for himself. With a snort he
+leaped to one side, and jerking his rein from the policeman's grasp, went
+dashing away.
+
+So sudden was this turn that Cordie, caught unawares, was thrown crashing
+to the ground. The officer wheeled and rode after the horse.
+
+It was the older man, the one with gray about his temples, who, quickly
+dismounting, helped the girl to her feet.
+
+"Are you hurt?" he asked in a tone that had a fatherly touch in it.
+
+That did the trick for Cordie. All her anger was gone. She was not
+injured, but tears came trickling out from beneath her eyelids as she
+half sobbed:
+
+"I--I'm sorry. Truly I am. I didn't, didn't mean to. Truly--truly I
+didn't! I--I used to ride him in races, on--on the farm. And I
+thought--thought it would be fun to just sit--sit a minute in his saddle.
+I tried it and I guess--guess he thought it was to be another race.
+Anyway, he--he bolted with me and I couldn't stop him. Truly, truly I
+couldn't!"
+
+"That's all right, Miss," said the elderly one, putting a fatherly hand
+on her shoulder. "It may not be so bad, after all."
+
+The younger policeman had also dismounted and now stood smiling at them
+and appearing to wish he might take the place of his older friend.
+
+"That is Pat O'Hara's horse," he said at last. "He's the smartest mount
+on the force. And I'll tell you one thing, if we wait for Hogan to catch
+him we'll be here until to-morrow morning."
+
+Hogan, the irate policeman, was certainly having his troubles catching
+Dick. With the skill and mischief of a trained performer, Dick was
+playing tag with him in a masterly fashion. He would stand with head down
+as if asleep until his pursuer was all but upon him; then with a snort he
+would dash away. No amount of coaxing, cajoling or cursing could bring
+him any nearer to capture.
+
+This little play went on for several minutes. Then, at a time when Dick
+had circled quite close to her, Cordie suddenly put two fingers to her
+lips and let out a shrill whistle. Instantly the splendid horse pricked
+up his ears and came trotting toward her.
+
+"Good old Dick," she whispered, patting him on the neck and not so much
+as putting out a hand for his rein.
+
+"Well I'll be--" mumbled the younger policeman.
+
+"There's lots like 'em, both horses and girls," the old man smiled, "and
+I'll swear there's not more bad in the girl than the horse."
+
+"No, now Hogan," he held up a warning hand to the one who came riding up.
+"You leave this to me. Where's O'Hara's stand?"
+
+"State and Madison," volunteered the younger man.
+
+"Good, we're off. You men can ride back to your posts. I'll tend to this
+matter myself."
+
+The younger man grinned. Hogan growled; then they rode away.
+
+"You better mount and ride back," suggested the older man to Cordie.
+
+Seeing her hesitate, he reached for her rein, "I'll steady him a bit, but
+he's had his race. Guess he'll be satisfied. But," he said suddenly,
+"you're not dressed for this. You must be half frozen."
+
+Unstrapping a great coat from Patrick O'Hara's saddle, he helped her into
+it and together they rode away.
+
+And so it happened that on this day, only a few days before Christmas,
+the throngs along State Street viewed a second unusual sight. Though
+quite different from the first, it was no less mystifying. Who ever heard
+of a gray haired policeman and a bobbed haired girl in a policeman's
+great coat, riding police horses and parading up the city's most
+congested street in broad daylight?
+
+"What a fool I've been," the girl whispered to herself as she hid her
+face from a camera. "It will all be in the papers. And then what?"
+
+They found young Patrick O'Hara nervously pacing his beat on foot. His
+face lit up with a broad grin as he saw them approaching.
+
+"I sort of figured," he drawled, "that whoever took Dick would bring him
+back. Can't anybody do a good job of riding him except me."
+
+"If you think that," exclaimed Tim Reilly, the elderly policeman, "you
+just take any horse on the force, give this girl and Dick a three-length
+start, and see if you'd catch 'em. You would--not! Not in a thousand
+moons!"
+
+Patrick O'Hara grinned as he helped the girl down.
+
+"Now you beat it," said Tim in as stern a voice as he could command. "I
+suspect you work around here somewhere close. You've overdone your noon
+hour, and this the rush season. You'll be in for it now."
+
+Cordie threw him one uncertain glance to discover whether or not he was
+in earnest. The next moment she went racing across the street.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XI
+                       AS SEEN FROM THE STAIRWAY
+
+
+"Where in the world have you been?" Lucile exclaimed, pouncing upon
+Cordie as soon as she came in sight. "Rennie's been worrying her poor old
+head off about you, and Miss Mones, who's in charge of the checking
+girls, is furious."
+
+"Oh," Cordie drawled, "I was out to lunch. Then I took a spin down the
+park on my favorite steed. It's a won-der-ful day outside."
+
+"You'll have a lot of time to spend outside," scolded Lucile, "if you
+don't get right back to your stand."
+
+A moment later, having somehow made her peace with Miss Mones, Cordie was
+back at her task, rustling paper and snipping cord.
+
+Late that afternoon Lucile was sent to the twelfth floor storeroom to
+look up a special order. She enjoyed these trips to the upper realms.
+This vast storeroom was like a new world to her. As she walked down long,
+narrow, silent aisles, on either side of which were wired in compartments
+piled high with every conceivable form of merchandise: rugs, piano lamps,
+dolls, dishes, couches, clothes-pins, and who knows what others, she
+could not help feeling that she was in the store house of the world, that
+she was queen of this little ward and that there remained only for her to
+say the word and a house would be handsomely furnished, a beautiful bride
+outfitted with a trousseau, or a Christmas tree decorated for a score of
+happy children. Yes, these aisles held a charm and fascination all their
+own. She liked the silence of the place, too. After the hours of
+listening to the constant babble of voices, the murmur of shoppers, the
+call of clerks, the answers of floormen, this place seemed the heart of
+silent woods at night.
+
+Captivated by such thoughts as these, and having located the missing
+books and started them on their journey down the elevator, she decided to
+walk down the nine flights to her own floor.
+
+Here, too, as she skipped lightly down from floor to floor, she caught
+little intimate glimpses of the various lives that were being lived in
+this little world of which she was for a time a part. Here a score of
+printing presses and box making machines were cutting, shaping and
+printing containers for all manner of holiday goods. The constant rush of
+wheels, the press and thump of things, the wrinkles on the brows of
+operators, all told at what a feverish heat the work was being pushed
+forward.
+
+One floor lower down the same feverish pace was being set. Here nimble
+fingers dipped and packed chocolate bon-bons, while from the right and
+left of them came the rattle and thump of drums polishing jelly beans and
+moulding gum drops at the rate of ten thousand a minute.
+
+Ah yes, there was the Christmas rush for you. But one floor lower down
+there was quiet and composure such as one might hope to find in a meadow
+where a single artist, with easel set, sketches a landscape. It was not
+unlike that either, for the two-score of persons engaged here were
+sketching, too. The sketches they made with pen and ink and water-colors
+were not unattractive. Drawings of house interiors they were; here the
+heavily furnished office of some money king, and there the light and airy
+boudoir of one of society's queens; here the modest compartment of a
+young architect who, though of only average means, enjoyed having things
+done right, and there the many roomed mansion of a steel magnate. These
+sketches were made and then shown to the prospective customer. The
+customer offered suggestions, made slight changes, then nodded, wrote a
+check, and a sale amounting to thousands of dollars was completed.
+
+"That must be fascinating work," Lucile whispered to herself as an
+artistic looking young woman showed a finished sketch to a customer. "I
+think I'd like that. I believe----"
+
+With a sudden shock her thoughts were cut short. Two persons had entered
+the glassed-in compartment--a woman of thirty and a girl in her late
+teens. And of all persons!
+
+"The Mystery Lady and Cordie! It can't be," she breathed, "and yet it
+is!"
+
+It was, too. None other. What was stranger still, they appeared to have
+business here. At sight of them one of the artists arose and lifting a
+drawing which had been standing face to the wall, held it out for their
+inspection.
+
+Cordie clasped her hands in very evident ecstasy of delight, and, if
+Lucile read her lips aright, she exclaimed:
+
+"How perfectly wonderful!"
+
+The expression on the Mystery Lady's face said plainer than words, "I
+hoped you'd like it."
+
+The sketch, Lucile could see plainly enough from where she stood, was a
+girl's room. There was a bed with draperies, a study table of
+slender-legged mahogany, a dresser, one great comfortable chair
+surprisingly like Lucile's own, some simpler chairs of exquisite design.
+These furnishings, and such others as only a girl would love, were done
+in the gay tints that appeal to the springtime of youth.
+
+"Cordie?" Lucile stared incredulously. "A simple country girl, what can
+she know about such things? That room--why those furnishings would cost
+hundreds of dollars. It's absurd, impossible; and yet there they are--she
+and the Mystery Lady."
+
+The Mystery Lady! At thought of her, Lucile was seized with an almost
+uncontrollable desire to rush down there and demand the meaning of that
+lady's many strange doings. But something held her back. So Cordie was
+acquainted with the Mystery Lady! Here was something strange. Indeed,
+Lucile was beginning to wonder a great deal about Cordie.
+
+"She has her secrets, little Cordie!" exclaimed Lucile. "Who would have
+thought it?"
+
+Perhaps it is not strange that Lucile did not feel warranted in breaking
+in upon those secrets. So there she stood, irresolute, until the two of
+them had left the room and lost themselves in the throngs that crowded
+every aisle of this great mart of trade.
+
+"Now," Lucile sighed, "I shan't ever feel quite the same about Cordie. I
+suppose, though, she has a right to her secrets. What could she possibly
+know about interior decorating and furnishing? Perhaps more than I would
+guess. But a country girl? What does she know about the Mystery Lady?
+Little, or much? Have they known each other long? I--I'll ask her.
+No--n-o-o, I guess I won't. I wasn't supposed to see. It was too much
+like spying. No," this decisively, "I'll just have to let things work
+themselves out. And if they don't work out to something like a
+revelation, then I'll know they haven't, that's all. More than half the
+mysteries of the world are never unravelled at all."
+
+After this bit of reasoning, she hastened on down the remaining flights
+of stairs to her work.
+
+"Where's Cordie?" she asked of Laurie.
+
+"Out on a shopping pass. Swell looking dame came in and called for her."
+There was a knowing grin on Laurie's face as he said this, but Lucile,
+who had turned to her work, did not notice it.
+
+Cordie returned a few moments later, but not one word did she let fall
+regarding her shopping mission.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII
+                          SILVER GRAY TREASURE
+
+
+"What do you think!" exclaimed Cordie. "It was such a strange thing to
+happen. I just have to tell some one, or I'll burst. I daren't tell
+Lucile. I am afraid she'd scold me."
+
+James, the mysterious seaman who carried bundles in the book department,
+looked at her and smiled.
+
+"I've heard a lot of stories in my life, and them that wasn't to be
+repeated, wasn't. If you've got a yarn to file away in the pigeon holes
+of somebody's brain, why file it with me."
+
+She had come upon James while on the way from the cloak room. She would
+have to wait a full half hour before Lucile would have finished her work,
+and she felt that she just must tell some one of her thrilling adventure
+with Dick and the policeman.
+
+Seated on the edge of a table, feet dangling and fingers beating time to
+the music of her story, she told James of this thrilling adventure.
+
+"You came out well enough at that," he chuckled when she had finished.
+"Lots better'n I did the last time I mixed into things."
+
+Cordie wondered if this remark had reference to his chase after the
+hawk-eyed young man who had followed her to the furnace room that night.
+But asking no questions, she just waited.
+
+"Funny trip, that last sea voyage I took," James mused at last, his eyes
+half closed. "It wouldn't have been half bad if it hadn't been for one
+vile crook.
+
+"You see," he went on, "sometimes of a summer I run up to Nome. I've
+always had a few hundred dollars, that is up until now. I'd go up there
+in the north and sort of wander round on gasoline schooners and river
+boats, buyin' up skins; red, white, cross fox, and maybe a silver gray or
+two. Minks and martin too, and ermine and Siberian squirrel.
+
+"Always had a love for real furs; you know what I mean, the genuine stuff
+that stands up straight and fluffy and can't be got anywhere far south of
+the Arctic Circle--things like the fox skin that's on that cape your pal
+Lucile wears sometimes. When I see all these pretty girls wearin' rabbit
+skin coats, it makes me feel sort of bad. Why, even the Eskimos do better
+than that! They dress their women in fawn skin; mighty pretty they are,
+too, sometimes.
+
+"Well, last summer I went up to Nome, that's in Alaska, you know, and
+from there I took a sort of pirate schooner that ranges up and down the
+coast of Alaska and into Russian waters."
+
+"Pirate," breathed Cordie, but James didn't hear her.
+
+"We touched at a point or two," he went on, "then went over into Russian
+waters for walrus hunting--ivory and skins.
+
+"We ran into a big herd and filled the boat up, then touched at East
+Cape, Siberia.
+
+"There wasn't any real Russians there, so we went up to the native
+village. Old Nepassok, the chief, seemed to take a liking to me. He took
+me into his storeroom and showed me all his treasure--walrus and mastodon
+ivory, whale bone, red and white fox skins by the hundred, and some mink
+and beaver. Then at last he pulled out an oily cotton bag from somewhere
+far back in the corner and drew out of it--what do you think? The most
+perfect brace of silver fox skins I have ever seen! Black beauties, they
+were, with maybe a white hair for every square inch. Just enough for
+contrast. Know who wears skins like that? Only the very wealthiest
+people.
+
+"And there I was looking at them, worth a king's ransom, and maybe I
+could buy them."
+
+"Could you?" breathed Cordie.
+
+"I could, and did. It took me four hours. The chief was a hard nut to
+crack. He left me just enough to get back to Chicago, but what did I
+care? I had a fortune, one you could carry in two fair sized overcoat
+pockets, but a fortune all the same.
+
+"I got to Chicago with them," he leaned forward impressively, "and then a
+barber--a dark faced, hawk-eyed barber--done me out of them. Of course he
+was a crook, just playing barber. Probably learned the trade in jail.
+Anyway he done me for my fortune. Cut my hair, he did, and somehow got
+the fox skins out of my bag. When I got to my hotel all I had in my bag
+was a few clothes and a ten dollar gold piece. I raced back to the barber
+shop but he was gone; drawed his pay and skipped, that quick.
+
+"That," he finished, allowing his shoulders to drop into a slouch, "is
+why I'm carrying books here. I have to, or starve. Just what comes after
+Christmas I can't guess. It's not so easy to pick up a job after the
+holidays.
+
+"But do you know--" he sat up straight and there was a gleam in his eye,
+"do you know when I saw that barber fellow last?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Down below the sub-basement of this store, in the boiler room at night."
+
+"Not--not the one who was following me?"
+
+"The same. And I nearly got him, but not quite."
+
+"You--you didn't get him?"
+
+Cordie hardly knew whether to be sorry or glad. She hated violence; also
+she had no love for that man.
+
+"I did not get him," breathed James, "but next time I will, and what I'll
+say and do for him will be for both you and me. G'night!" He rose
+abruptly and, shoulders square, gait steady and strong, he walked away.
+
+"What are you dreaming about?" Lucile asked as she came upon Cordie five
+minutes later.
+
+"Nothing much, I guess. Thinking through a story I just heard, that's
+all."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIII
+                             LUCILE'S DREAM
+
+
+That evening on the L train Lucile read a copy of the morning paper, one
+which she had carefully saved for a very definite reason. It was the
+paper which was exploiting the Lady of the Christmas Spirit. Lucile
+always got a thrill out of reading about the latest doings of that
+adventurous person who had managed to be everywhere, to mingle with great
+throngs, and yet to be recognized by no one.
+
+"Well, I declare!" she whispered to herself as a fresh thrill ran through
+her being. "She was to be in our store this very afternoon; in the art
+room of the furniture store. That's the very room in which I saw Cordie
+and the Mystery Lady. This Lady of the Christmas Spirit may have been in
+the room at that exact moment. How very, very exciting!"
+
+Closing her eyes, she tried to see that room again; to call back pictures
+of ladies who had entered the room while she had been looking down upon
+it.
+
+"No," she thought at last, "there isn't one that fits; one was tall and
+ugly, one short, stout and middle aged, and two were quite gray. Not one
+fits the description of this Christmas Spirit person; unless, unless--"
+her heart skipped a beat. She had thought of the Mystery Lady.
+
+"But of course it couldn't be," she reasoned at last. "It doesn't say she
+was to be there at that very moment. I was not standing on the stair more
+than ten minutes. There are six such periods in an hour and nine and a
+half working hours in a store day. Fine chance! One chance in fifty. And
+yet, stranger things have happened. What if it were she! What----"
+
+Her dreamings were broken short off by the sudden crumpling of paper at
+her side. Cordie had been glancing over the evening paper. Now the paper
+had entirely disappeared, and Cordie's face was crimson to the roots of
+her hair.
+
+"Why Cordie, what's happened?" exclaimed Lucile.
+
+"Noth--nothing's happened," said Cordie, looking suddenly out of the
+window.
+
+That was all Lucile could get out of her. One thing seemed strange,
+however. At the stand by the foot of the elevated station Cordie bought
+two copies of the same paper she had been reading on the train. These she
+folded up into a solid bundle and packed tightly under her arm.
+
+"I wonder why she did that?" Lucile thought to herself.
+
+As often happens in bachelor ladies' apartments, this night there was
+nothing to be found in their larder save sugar, milk and cocoa.
+
+"You get the cocoa to a boil," said Lucile, "and I'll run over to the
+delicatessen for something hot. I'm really hungry to-night." She was down
+the stairs and away.
+
+Somewhat to her annoyance, she found the delicatessen packed with
+students waiting their turn to be supplied with eatables. The term had
+ended, and those who were too far from home to take the holidays away
+from the University were boarding themselves.
+
+After sinking rather wearily into a corner seat, Lucile found her mind
+slipping back over the days that had just flown.
+
+"To-morrow," she told herself soberly, "is the day before Christmas. It
+is my last day at the store. And then? Oh, bother the 'and then'! There's
+always a future, and always it comes out somehow."
+
+That she might not be depressed by thoughts of the low state of her
+finances, she filled her mind with day dreams. In these dreams she saw
+herself insisting that Cordie reveal to her the secret hiding place of
+the Mystery Lady. Having searched this lady out, she demanded the return
+of her well worn, but comfortable, coat. In the dream still she saw the
+lady throw up her hands to exclaim:
+
+"That frayed thing? I gave it to the rag man!"
+
+Then in a rage she, Lucile, stamps her foot and says: "How could you! Of
+course now I shall keep your cape of fox skin and Siberian squirrel."
+
+"Ah," she whispered, "that was a beautiful dream!"
+
+Glancing up, she saw there were still six customers ahead of her and she
+must wait for her turn.
+
+"Time for another," she whispered.
+
+This time it was the Lady of the Christmas Spirit. She saw her among the
+throngs at the store. Feeling sure that this must be the very person,
+that she might steal a look at her hands, she followed her from
+department to department. Upstairs and downstairs they went. More than
+once she caught the lady throwing back a mocking glance at her.
+
+Then, of a sudden, at the ribbon counter she caught sight of her hands.
+
+"Such hands!" she whispered. "There never were others like them. It is
+the Lady of the Christmas Spirit."
+
+Putting out her own hand, she grasped one of the marvelous ones as she
+whispered: "You are the Lady of the Christmas Spirit."
+
+At once there came a mighty jingle of gold. A perfect shower of gold went
+sparkling and tinkling to the floor.
+
+"Oh! Oh!--Oh! It will all be lost!" she cried, leaping forward.
+
+She leaped almost into the delicatessen keeper's arms. To her surprise
+she saw that the store was empty. Her day-dream had ended in a real
+dream; she had fallen asleep.
+
+Hastily collecting her scattered senses, she selected a steaming pot of
+beans and a generous cylinder of brown bread, then drawing her scarf
+about her, dashed out into the night.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV
+                         THE NEWSPAPER PICTURE
+
+
+Lucile may have been dreaming, but Cordie was wide awake and thinking
+hard. The instant Lucile had closed the door behind her she had spread
+one of the papers she had bought out before her and, having opened it at
+page 3, sat down to look at a picture reproduced there.
+
+For a full two minutes she sat staring at it.
+
+"Well anyway, it's not such a bad picture," she chuckled at last.
+
+After the chuckle her face took on a sober look.
+
+Then suddenly she exclaimed: "Let's see what they say about it!"
+
+"Well of all things! Nothing but a line of question marks! Well, at least
+the reporters know nothing about it."
+
+For a moment she stared at the long line of interrogation points, then
+her face dimpled with a smile.
+
+"Just think," she murmured. "They never whispered one word! Not one of
+them all! Not Patrick O'Hara, nor the old one they called Tim, nor the
+young one, nor even Hogan, who was so angry at me. And I'll bet the
+reporters begged and tempted them in every way they could think of. What
+wonderful good sports policemen must be. I--I'd like to hug every one of
+them!"
+
+Then she went skipping across the floor and back again, then paused and
+stared again at the picture.
+
+Truth was, all unknown to her, and certainly very much against her
+wishes, Cordie's picture had gotten into the paper. This was the picture
+she was still staring at: Crowds thronging State Street, a gray-haired
+mounted policeman, and by his side, also riding a police horse, a bobbed
+haired young girl in a policeman's great coat.
+
+"What if they see it!" she murmured.
+
+"They wouldn't let me stay. They will see it too--of course they will."
+
+"But then, what does it matter?" she exclaimed a moment later.
+"To-morrow's the day before Christmas. What will I care after that?"
+
+Hearing steps on the stairs, she hastily tore a page out of each of the
+two papers, folded them carefully and thrust them into a drawer. Then she
+threw the remaining part of the paper into the waste basket.
+
+
+"To-morrow is the day before Christmas," whispered Lucile as two hours
+later she sat staring rather moodily at the figures in the worn carpet.
+"A great Christmas, I suppose, for some people. Doesn't look like it
+would be much for me. With term bills and room rent staring me in the
+face, and only a few dollars for paying them, it certainly doesn't look
+good. And here I am with this little pet of mine sleeping on me and
+eating on me, and apparently no honest way of getting rid of her." She
+shook her finger at the bed where Cordie was sleeping.
+
+"If only you were an angora cat," she chided, still looking at the
+dreaming girl, "I might sell you. Even a canary would be better--he'd
+make no extra room rent and he'd eat very little."
+
+"And yet," she mused, "am I sorry? I should say I'm not! It's a long,
+long life, and somehow we'll struggle through."
+
+"Christmas," she mused again. "It will be a great Christmas for some
+people, be a wonderful one for Jefrey Farnsworth--that is, it will be if
+he's still alive. I wonder when they'll find him, and where? They say
+we've sold two thousand of his books this season. Think of it!"
+
+After that she sat wondering in a vague and dreamy way about many things.
+Printed pages relating to the Lady of the Christmas Spirit floated before
+her mind's vision to be followed by a picture of Cordie and the Mystery
+Lady in the art room of the furnishings department. Cordie's iron ring,
+set with a diamond, glimmered on the strange, long, muscular fingers of a
+hand. Laurie sold the last copy of "Blue Flames." Jefrey Farnsworth, in
+the manner she had always pictured him, tall, dark, with deep-set eyes
+and a stern face wrinkled by much mental labor, stood before an audience
+of women and made a speech. Yellow gold glittered, then spread out like a
+molten stream. With a start she shook herself into wakefulness. Once more
+she had fallen asleep.
+
+"Christmas," she whispered as she crept into bed. "To-morrow is the day
+before----"
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XV
+                        "WITH CONTENTS, IF ANY"
+
+
+In the meantime Florence had come upon an adventure. The place she
+entered a half hour after quitting time was a great barn-like room where
+dark shadows lurked in every corner but one. The huge stacks of bags and
+trunks that loomed up indistinctly in those dark corners made the place
+seem the baggage room of some terminal railway depot.
+
+As she joined the throng in the one light corner of the room she was
+treated to another little thrill. Such a motley throng as it was. Jewish
+second-hand dealers, short ones, tall ones, long-bearded ones; men of all
+races. And there were two or three women, and not a few vagabonds of the
+street, who had come in for no other purpose than to get out of the cold.
+Such were those who crowded round the high stand where, with gavel in
+hand, the auctioneer cried the sale:
+
+"How much am I bid? Ten dollars! Thank you. Ten I have. Who'll make it
+eleven! 'Leven, 'leven, 'leven. Who'll make it twelve?"
+
+There was not an attractive face in the group that surrounded the block.
+Florence was tempted to run away; but recalling the surprise she had
+promised herself, she stayed.
+
+Presently her eyes fell upon a face that attracted her, the kindly,
+gentle face of a woman in her thirties. She was seated at a desk,
+writing.
+
+"She's the clerk of the sale," Florence thought. "They're selling trunks
+now. She may be able to tell me when they will sell bags."
+
+She moved over close to the desk and timidly put her question.
+
+"Do you really want one of those bags?" the woman asked, surprise showing
+in her tone.
+
+"Yes. Why not?" the girl asked.
+
+"No reason at all, I guess," said the clerk. Then, after looking at
+Florence for a moment, a comradely smile spread over her face.
+
+"Come up close," she beckoned. "He'll be selling bags in fifteen minutes
+or so," she whispered. "Sit down here and wait. Why do you want one of
+those bags so badly?"
+
+"I--I need one," said Florence.
+
+"That's not all the reason."
+
+"No--not--not all," Florence hesitated, then told her frankly of the
+surprise she had planned for herself.
+
+The woman's face became almost motherly as she finished.
+
+"I'll tell you what to do," she whispered. "There are just five bags to
+be sold in the next lot. You won't want the first one. She--the woman who
+owned it, died."
+
+"Oh, no," Florence whispered.
+
+"You won't get the second nor the third. That long bearded Jew, and the
+slim, dark man standing by the post, will run them high if they have to.
+They know something about them."
+
+"How--how--"
+
+"How did they find out? I don't know, but they did. The last two bags are
+quite good ones, good as you would purchase new for fifteen or twenty
+dollars, and I shouldn't wonder," she winked an eye ever so slightly, "I
+shouldn't wonder a bit if there'd be a real surprise in one of them for
+you. There now, dearie," she smiled, "run over and look at them, over
+there beside the green trunk. And don't whisper a word of what I have
+told you.
+
+"The one nearest the block will be sold first, and the others just as
+they come," she added as the girl rose to go.
+
+Making her way around the outskirts of the crowd, Florence walked over to
+the place of the green trunk. The bags were all good, and most of them
+nearly new. Any one of them, she concluded, would see her safely through
+college, and that was all that mattered. Then, lest she attract too much
+attention, she slunk away into a dark corner.
+
+Her heart skipped a beat when the first bag was put up. Her hopes fell
+when she saw it sell for thirty-two dollars. Her little roll of fifteen
+dollars seemed to grow exceedingly small as she clutched it in her right
+hand. Was her dream of a surprise for Christmas morning only a dream? It
+would seem so, for the second and third bags also sold for a high figure.
+But, recalling the little lady's advice, she kept up her courage.
+
+"How much am I bid?" said the auctioneer as the fourth bag was handed
+him. Florence caught her breath. She tried to say "Ten dollars," but her
+tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A round faced man relieved her of
+the task. The bag went to eleven dollars, then twelve. Then it came to a
+halt, giving time for Florence to regain her voice.
+
+"Twelve and a half," her voice seemed piping and thin in that great
+place. But the auctioneer got it.
+
+"Thank you. Twelve and a half, a half, a half."
+
+"Thirteen! Thank you. Thirteen I have. Now the half," he nodded to
+Florence and she nodded back, "And a half, I have it. And a half. Now
+fourteen. Thirteen and a half. Now make it fourteen."
+
+"Fourteen," someone shouted. Again the girl's heart sank. What was the
+use?
+
+"And a half?" The auctioneer nodded at her and she nodded back.
+
+"Now fifteen. Now fifteen. Now fifteen," he shouted hoarsely. "Who'll
+make it fifteen? Fifteen once. Fifteen twice!" Florence crushed her money
+into a solid mass, "Fifteen three times, and SOLD to the young lady in
+blue!" His gavel came down with a bang.
+
+Scarcely believing her senses, the girl groped her way forward to receive
+the bag, then hurried over to the desk.
+
+"You got it?" smiled the clerk. "Here's hoping it's a beautiful,
+wonderful surprise!" she whispered as she pressed a lonely half dollar
+into the palm of her hand.
+
+Curiosity regarding the price that would be bid for the last bag of the
+lot held Florence to the spot for the space of three minutes. And that
+was a bit of curiosity which she was destined to regret.
+
+As she stood there listening to the bids she could not help but notice a
+dark man, with burning, hawk-like eyes hurry into the place, glance
+frantically about, race back to the place where the five bags had been,
+then stand stock still. His dark eyes roved about the place until they
+came to rest on one spot and that spot was the one occupied by the bag
+which Florence held in her hand. From that time until she left the room,
+although he pretended to be looking at everything else, she was sure his
+eyes did not leave that bag for a space of more than five seconds at any
+one time. The cold glitter of his eyes made her feel strangely weak at
+the knees.
+
+She had not gone twenty rods from the place when she heard footsteps
+behind her. Looking back, she saw that same small dark man coming behind
+her.
+
+"Just happened to come out then," she tried to reassure herself. But it
+was no use. Something within her told her that she was being followed,
+followed on the deserted city streets at night.
+
+At once a mad procession of questions began racing through her mind. Who
+was this man? Was it the bag he wanted? Why? What did he know about the
+bag? What did it really contain? To none of these questions could she
+form an adequate answer. Only one thing stood out clearly in her
+mind--the bag was hers. She had come by it in an honest manner. The hotel
+had a right to give it to the auctioneer to sell. She had a right to
+purchase it. She had paid for it. She had the bill of sale. It was
+rightfully hers.
+
+But even as these thoughts crystallized in her mind she realized that she
+was desperately afraid. The man with his burning black eyes was enough to
+inspire fear, and added to that it was night.
+
+"What am I to do?" she asked herself. "The elevated station is only two
+blocks ahead, but he will board the train I take. He will follow me after
+I get off and there are five desolate blocks to travel to my room."
+
+Suddenly a solution came to her. Just before her was the entrance to the
+LaSalle Street Railway Station. Why not walk in there and leave the bag
+at the checking room? She could return for it in the morning and carry it
+to the store where she could check it again and leave it until closing
+time.
+
+No sooner thought than done. Five minutes later, looking neither to right
+nor left, she walked demurely out of the station. She did not know what
+had become of her pursuer, and she did not care. The bag was safe. He
+could not get it, and aside from that, what did he care for her, an
+elevator girl going home from work? Very evidently he cared nothing at
+all, for she did not see him again that night.
+
+"Fooled him," she smiled to herself as she settled herself comfortably in
+a seat where she might watch the winter whitened city speed past her.
+"That's the last I'll ever see of him."
+
+In coming to this conclusion she overlooked one trifling detail. Since
+the night was cold, she had worn beneath her coat her elevator girl's
+uniform. The auction room was warm. While there she had unbuttoned her
+coat, displaying plainly the uniform and the monogrammed buttons on it.
+The greatest of stores employ few enough elevator girls. To visit each
+bank of elevators and to get a look at each girl is but the work of an
+hour or two at most. The man would have no trouble in locating her if he
+cared to do so. Since she had not thought of this she rode home humming
+in a carefree manner and, after a meal of sandwiches, cocoa and pie,
+followed by an hour of reading, she went to bed to dream of mysterious
+treasures taken by the truck load from the depths of a heavy, dark brown
+travelling bag.
+
+She awoke in the morning with a pleasing sense of mystery and
+anticipation lurking about in the shadowy corners of her brain.
+
+Leaping from bed, she went through a series of wild calesthenics which
+set every ounce of blood in her veins racing away with new life.
+
+An hour later, with a little suppressed feeling of excitement tugging at
+her heart and with fingers that trembled slightly, she passed her check
+over the counter at the depot. She had some slight feeling that it had
+all been a dream. But no, there it was, her mysterious bag, as big and
+handsome as ever. It was quite light, but she felt sure it was not empty.
+What could it contain? She was tempted to draw the key from her pocket
+then and there and have a peek. But no--to-morrow was Christmas. She
+could wait. So, seizing the bag, she hurried away to her work.
+
+Once the bag was checked at the store and she back at her lever in the
+cage that went up and down, up and down all day, she found herself
+thinking of that other girl, the mysterious double of hers. Where was she
+to-day? Had she really gone to work, or had she vanished? What manner of
+plot had she been mixed up in? What train had gone at eleven-thirty?
+Whose train? Was that girl supposed to go? If so, why did she not wish to
+go? Where did she live? Who was she anyway?
+
+While the elevator went up and down, up and down, these questions, and a
+score of others, kept revolving themselves in her mind. At last she found
+herself forming a firm resolve that should she happen upon her mysterious
+double again she most certainly would keep in touch with her until she
+found out more about her.
+
+She saw her mysterious double shortly after she had gone to work, but
+under conditions which gave her no opportunity to either study or
+question her. The girl, dressed in her uniform and apparently ready to go
+to work, was standing before the bank of elevators on the thirteenth
+floor. She had been talking in low and excited tones to a tall, square
+shouldered man who, in spite of the fact that he was on a floor of this
+great store where only employees are allowed, had in his bearing and walk
+something that spoke strongly of boats and the sea.
+
+"He's been a captain or a mate or something," Florence said to herself as
+she sent her cage speeding downward. "I wonder if that girl belongs to
+the sea."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI
+                              A GREAT DAY
+
+
+"The day before Christmas! Oh joy! Joy! Joy!"
+
+Lucile leaped out of bed. Throwing off her dream-robe, she went whirling
+about the room for all the world as if she were playing roll the hoop and
+she were the hoop.
+
+The day before Christmas! Who cared if room rent was due to-night? Who
+cared if the school term loomed ahead with little enough cash in her
+stocking to smooth its way? Who cared about anything? It was the day
+before Christmas.
+
+This day work would be light. Tommie had said that. Donnie had said it.
+Rennie and all the others of the sales group who stayed from year to year
+had said it. What was more, for this one day, if never again, Lucile had
+resolved to wear the magnificent cape of midnight blue and fox-skin. And
+at night, when the day was done, the week ended, the season closed, there
+was to be a wonderful party. A party! Oh joy! A party!
+
+Laurie, the mysterious Laurie Seymour, had invited them, just they of his
+corner--Donnie and Rennie, Tommie, Cordie and herself.
+
+A grand party it was to be, a supper at Henrici's and after that Laurie
+was to take them to a symphony concert! And to this party she would wear
+the midnight blue cape. For one night, one reckless, joyous night, she
+would travel in the height of style. And then?
+
+"Oh, bother the 'and then'! It's the day before Christmas!" She went
+through another series of wild whirls that landed her beneath the shower.
+
+When at last she was fully dressed for this last day of work in the book
+department, Lucile drew on the cape. Then, having told Cordie that she
+would wait for her outside, she went skipping down the stairs.
+
+It was one of those crisp, snappy, frosty mornings of winter that invite
+you to inhale deeply of its clear, liquid-like air.
+
+After taking three deep breaths Lucile buried her radiant face in the
+warm depths of the fox skin.
+
+"How gorgeous," she murmured. "Oh, that I might own it forever!"
+
+Even as she said this all the unanswered questions that grouped
+themselves about the cape--its owner, and the girl's associates at the
+store--came trooping back to puzzle her. Who was the Mystery Lady? Why
+had she left the cape that night? Why did she not return for it later?
+How had it happened that she was in the store that night at two hours
+before midnight? Who was Laurie Seymour? Why had he given the Mystery
+Lady his pass-out? How had he spent that night? What had happened to the
+vanished author of "Blue Flames"? Who was Cordie? Was she really the
+poor, innocent little country girl she had thought her? What was to come
+of her, once the season had closed? Who was the "Spirit of Christmas"?
+Had she ever seen her? Who would get the two hundred in gold? What had
+she meant by the crimson trail she left behind? Who was Sam? Why was
+Laurie so much afraid to meet him? Above all, what were the secrets of
+the crimson thread and the diamond set iron ring?
+
+Surely here were problems enough to put wrinkles in any brow. But it was
+the day before Christmas, so, as Cordie came dancing down to a place
+beside her, Lucile gripped her arm and led away in a sort of
+hop-skip-and-jump that brought them up breathless at the station.
+
+There was just time to grab a paper before the train came rattling in.
+Having secured a seat, Lucile hid herself behind her paper. A moment
+later she was glad for the paper's protection. Had it not been for the
+paper she felt that half the people on the train might have read her
+thoughts.
+
+The thing she saw in the Spirit of Christmas column, which daily told of
+the doings of the lady by that name, was such a startling revelation that
+she barely escaped a shriek as her eyes fell on it.
+
+"You have been wondering," she read in the column devoted to the lady of
+the "Christmas Spirit," "what I have been meaning by the crimson trail
+which I have left behind. Perhaps some of you have guessed the secret. If
+this is true, you have made little use of that knowledge. None of you
+have found me. Not one of the hundreds of thousands who have passed me
+has paused to grip my hand and to whisper: 'You are the Spirit of
+Christmas.'
+
+"Now I will give you some fresh revelations. It is the day before
+Christmas. At midnight to-night Christmas comes. As the clock strikes
+that magic hour my wanderings cease. If no one has claimed my gold by
+then, no one will.
+
+"I have told you always that hands ofttimes express more than a face.
+This is true of my hands. They are strange hands. Stranger still are the
+rings I wear upon them. For days now I have worn an iron ring set with a
+diamond. Had someone noticed this, read the secret and whispered: 'You
+are the Spirit of Christmas,' not only should my gold have clinked for
+him, but the diamond should have been his as well."
+
+Lucile caught her breath as she read this. Here indeed was revelation.
+Could it be--There was more. She read on.
+
+"As for the crimson trail I have left behind. That is very simple. I
+marvel that people can be so blind. I have left it everywhere. It is
+unusual, very unusual, yet I have left it everywhere, in hundreds of
+places, in newsboys' papers, in shopgirls' books, in curtains, shades,
+and even in people's garments, yet not one has read the sign. The sign is
+this: a bit of crimson thread drawn twice through and tied. There is a
+purple strand in the thread. It is unusual, yet no one has understood; no
+one has said 'You are the Spirit of Christmas'."
+
+"The crimson thread," Lucile breathed. "Why, then--then the Mystery Lady
+and the Spirit of Christmas Lady are one, and I have seen her many times.
+I saw her at two hours before midnight. I sold her a book. Twice I saw
+her talking to Cordie. I followed her upon the street. Had I but known it
+I might have whispered to her: 'You are the Spirit of Christmas.' Then
+the gold would have been mine. Two hundred in gold!" she breathed. "Two
+hundred in gold! And now it is gone!
+
+"But is it? Is it quite gone yet? There is yet this day, the day before
+Christmas."
+
+Again her eyes sought the printed page. And this is what she read:
+
+"Today I shall not appear before sunset. Early in the evening, and again
+between the hours of ten and midnight, I shall be somewhere on the
+Boulevard. I shall attend the Symphony Concert in Opera Hall."
+
+"The concert," Lucile murmured with great joy. "We, too, are going there
+to-night. We shall be on the Boulevard. There is yet a chance. And the
+beauty of it all is I shall know her the instant I see her. Oh! You
+glorious bag of gold, please, please do wait for me!"
+
+As the car rattled on downtown, her blood cooled and she realized that
+there was a very slight hope. With these broad hints thrown out to them,
+all those who had been following the doings of this mysterious lady would
+be eagerly on the alert. There may have been some, perhaps many, who had
+found the crimson thread and had marvelled at it. Perhaps, like her, they
+had seen the Mystery Lady's face and would recognize her if they saw her
+on the Boulevard. There may have been many who had seen and marvelled at
+the diamond set iron ring.
+
+"Ah well," Lucile whispered to herself, "there is yet hope. 'Hope springs
+eternal--'"
+
+At the downtown station she dismissed the subject for matters of more
+immediate importance, the last great day of sales before Christmas.
+
+Trade until noon was brisk; mostly business men rushing in for "cash and
+carry." At noon she arranged to have lunch with her old chum, the
+elevator girl and, because it was the day before Christmas, instead of
+the crowded employees' lunch room, they chose as their meeting place the
+tea room which was patronized for the most part by customers. Here, in a
+secluded corner, they might talk over old times and relate, with bated
+breath, the events of the immediate past and the future.
+
+Enough there was to tell, too. Lucile's Mystery Lady, who had turned so
+suddenly into the one of the Christmas Spirit, her Laurie Seymour, her
+hoped for $200 in gold, her James, the bundle carrier and last but not
+least, Cordie. And for Florence there was her mystifying double and the
+bewitching bag that contained her Christmas surprise. Did ever two girls
+have more to tell in one short noon hour?
+
+As Florence finished her story; as she spoke of seeing her double talking
+with the broad shouldered man of the seaman-like bearing, Lucile suddenly
+leaned forward to exclaim:
+
+"Florence, that man must have been our bundle carrier, James. He has told
+Cordie of his trips upon the sea. There could scarcely be two such men in
+one store."
+
+"It might be true," smiled Florence, "but don't forget there are two such
+persons as I am in this store. You never can tell. I'd as soon believe he
+was the same man. Wouldn't it be thrilling if he should turn out to be a
+friend of my double's and we should get all mixed up in some sort of
+affair just because I look exactly like her. Oh, Lucile!" she whispered
+excitedly, "the day isn't done yet!" And indeed it was not.
+
+"And this man who followed you after you had bought the bag," said Lucile
+thoughtfully. "He sounds an awful lot like the one who tried to carry
+Cordie away. Do you suppose----"
+
+"Now you're dreaming," laughed Florence as she reached for her check,
+then hurried away to her work.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVII
+                             AN ICY PLUNGE
+
+
+Florence's opportunity for following her surprising double came sooner
+than she expected; that very evening, in fact. She had quit work at the
+regular time, had donned hat and coat, had gone to the checking room to
+retrieve her Christmas bag. She was just leaving by a side door when,
+ahead of her in the throng, she caught a glimpse of that splendid cross
+fox which her double had insisted on her wearing the day before.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Here's where I solve a mystery."
+
+Without a thought of what it might lead to, she followed the girl to a
+surface car and boarded it just behind her. At Grand Avenue the girl got
+off and Florence followed her again, boarded an eastbound car and, almost
+before she knew it, found herself following the girl through a blinding
+swirl of snow that swept in from the lake.
+
+The street the girl had taken was covered with untrodden snow. It led to
+the Municipal Pier, the great city pier that like some great black
+pointing finger of destiny reached a full half mile out into the white
+ice-bound lake.
+
+"Where--where can she be going?" Florence asked herself.
+
+"Boo! How cold!" she shivered.
+
+The next moment she shivered again, but this time it was from fear.
+Having chanced to look about, she was startled to see a man all but upon
+her heels. And that man--no, there could be no mistake about it--that man
+was the one of the night before, he of the burning black eyes.
+
+Not knowing what else to do, the girl redoubled her speed. A half formed
+hope was in her mind, a hope that she might catch up with the other girl.
+Two were better than one, even if both were girls.
+
+Hardly had this hope come when it vanished. In the shadows of the
+three-story brick structure that formed the base of the pier, her double
+suddenly disappeared and left her, a lone girl on a wind-swept, deserted
+street that led to an empty pier. And here was a dark-faced, villainous
+looking man at her heels.
+
+She could see but one chance now; that she might find her way out upon
+the pier and there, amid its labyrinth of board walks, freight rooms and
+deserted lunch rooms, lose herself from her pursuer. She resolved to try
+it. The next moment she dashed into the shadows of that great black
+building.
+
+The pier, upon which she had placed hopes of escape, was used in summer
+as a recreation center. On warm days its board walks and its wind-swept
+pavilions were thronged. Now it was still as a tomb.
+
+Florence had once been here with the throng, but had taken little notice
+of things then. The very silence of the place was confusing. She fancied
+that she heard her own heart beat. Which way should she turn? Above, two
+stories up, she remembered was a broad board walk a half mile long. She
+might race up the stairs to this; but after all it offered no place of
+hiding. To her right was a hallway which led to a long narrow loading
+place for trucks. At this place, in summer, ships docked; here their
+hundreds of tons of fruit, grain, flour, manufactured articles, and a
+hundred other commodities, were unloaded. She had a vague notion that
+just back of this loading place, beyond the fast closed doors, was a
+labyrinth of freight rooms.
+
+"If only one of those doors were open," she breathed. "Perhaps one is
+unlocked. It's my best chance."
+
+All this thinking consumed less than a moment of time. The next instant
+she went racing over the cement floor. She was across it and out upon the
+landing in a moment. This she knew was a perilous position. There was a
+night watchman about somewhere. Here she was in plain view. What would
+the watchman do if he found her? Her pursuer was not far behind.
+
+With a trembling hand, she gripped the latch of a door. It lifted, but
+the door did not open.
+
+"Locked," she whispered in a tone of despair.
+
+"Try another," was her next thought. She was away like a shot.
+
+Again the latch lifted; again the door refused to budge. She thought she
+saw a dark figure pass from pillar to pillar in the place she had just
+left. She could not see him, but she caught the thud-thud of his feet on
+the cement platform.
+
+Fighting her way against the wind, racing fast, breathing hard, she
+battled onward. And all the time something within her was whispering:
+"It's no use, no use, no use." Yet, setting her teeth hard, she raced on.
+
+The man was gaining, she was sure of that. Yes, now as she looked back
+she saw him, only some fifty yards behind her.
+
+This drove her to frantic effort. But to no avail. He continued to gain;
+a yard, two yards, five, ten, twenty.
+
+"It's no use," she panted sobbingly.
+
+And then--she could not believe her eyes--before her, to the right, was
+an open door.
+
+Like a flash she was inside. Grasping the door she attempted to shut it,
+but the snow blocked it.
+
+One glance about her showed great dark bulks on every hand.
+
+"Freight," she breathed, "piles of freight. Here--here is a chance yet."
+
+The next instant she was tip-toeing her way softly in and out among the
+innumerable piles of boxes, bags and crates that extended on and on into
+the impenetrable darkness.
+
+She ran along as softly as she could, yet each time as she paused she
+fancied that she caught the stealthy footsteps of that horrible man.
+
+"What does he want? Is it the bag that he wants? Whose bag was it? Was it
+his? If so, why did he let it get away from him?" These questions kept
+racing through her brain. Then came another question even more
+disturbing. Perhaps this man had been unfortunate, had been sick or had
+lost all his property. It might be that he had returned just in time to
+miss the opportunity of redeeming this lost possession which contained
+something he prized, perhaps of great value.
+
+"In that case he is more to be pitied than feared," she thought.
+
+For an instant she contemplated going back to him; yet she dared not.
+
+So, in the end, she continued tip-toeing about. Round a great pile of
+sacks, filled with sugar or beans, past boxes of tin cans and in and out
+among massive pieces of machinery, she wandered, all the time wondering
+in a vague sort of way what was to be the end of it all.
+
+The end to her stay in the store-room came with lightning-like rapidity.
+She had just tiptoed around a huge steel drum of some sort when all of a
+sudden there burst upon her ear a deafening roar that shattered the
+stillness of the place.
+
+The next instant a great black dog leaped at her.
+
+He was not three feet from her when, with an agility that surprised her,
+she leaped from box top to box top until she found herself ten feet above
+the floor.
+
+But the dog, who appeared to be an utterly savage beast, could climb too.
+She could hear him scrambling and scratching his way up, growling as he
+came. Her head was in a whirl. What was to be done? Suddenly she realized
+that just before her, beyond the boxes, was a window. Dragging her bag
+after her, she succeeded in reaching the window. She found it locked. In
+her desperation she dropped her bag and began kicking at the sash. With a
+sudden snap the fastenings gave way. She was caught so unawares that she
+plunged straight out of the window.
+
+With a bump that knocked all the wind from her lungs and most of her
+senses from her head, she landed on something hard. Without being able to
+help herself, she rolled over once, then fell again. This time, to her
+surprise and consternation, she did not bump; she splashed. She sank. She
+rose. With all her nerves alert, she swam strongly in the stinging lake
+water. She had fallen from the narrow pier ledge and had landed in the
+lake.
+
+A white cake of ice loomed up before her. She swam to it and climbed upon
+it. What was to be done? The thermometer was near zero. She was soaked to
+the skin, and far from anyone she knew.
+
+"Got--got to get to shore somehow," she shivered. "I'll freeze here,
+sure. Freeze in no time."
+
+She looked back at the place from which she had come. The window was
+still open. The dog had stopped barking. She wondered in a vague sort of
+way what had become of her pursuer.
+
+"And--and my bag," she chattered. "It--it's in there." She was coming
+almost to hate that bag.
+
+"Can't get up there anyway," was her final comment. It was true; between
+the water line and the surface of the pier landing was a sheer wall of
+cement, eight feet high and smooth as glass.
+
+Her gaze swept a broad circle. Off to her right was a solid mass of ice
+which appeared to reach to shore.
+
+"One swim and then I can walk to land," she shuddered.
+
+Two steps forward, a sudden plunge, and again she was in the freezing
+water.
+
+Once on the ice she dashed away at top speed. It was a race, a race for
+her life. Already her clothing was freezing stiff.
+
+Here she leaped a chasm of black water; there she tripped over a hole and
+fell flat; here dodged a stretch of honeycomb ice and raced across a
+broad level stretch.
+
+Almost before she knew it she was alongside a row of steamships tied up
+in a channel close to shore. Then, to her surprise, she caught the gleam
+of a light in a cabin on the upper deck of the smallest boat tied there.
+
+"There's a rope cable hanging over the side," she told herself. "I--I
+could climb it. There must be someone up there, and--and a fire. A fire!
+Oh, a fire and warmth! I must do it, or I'll freeze.
+
+"Of course they are strangers--a man, two men, maybe a family, but sea
+folks are kind people, I'm told. They know what it means to be wet and
+cold. I--I'll risk it."
+
+The next moment, hand over hand, she was making her way up the cable.
+
+Once on deck, she raced along the side until she came to a stair. Up this
+she sprang, then down the side again until she was at the door of the
+room where the light still gleamed into the night.
+
+Without a moment's hesitation she banged on the door.
+
+"Who--who's there?" came in a distinctly feminine voice. Florence's heart
+gave a great throb of joy.
+
+"It's me. Only me," she answered. "You don't know me, but let me in. I
+fell in the lake. I--I'm free--freezing!"
+
+At once the door flew open and she was dragged inside. Then the door
+slammed shut.
+
+For a fraction of a moment the two girls stood staring at one another,
+then as in one voice, they burst out:
+
+"It's you!"
+
+"It's you!"
+
+The girl in the ship's cabin was none other than Florence's double.
+
+There was no time for explaining. The girl began tugging away at her
+double's frozen garments. Ten minutes later, with her clothing on a line
+behind the glowing stove, Florence sat wrapped in a blanket by the fire,
+sipping a cup of cocoa.
+
+For a time she sat looking at the girl who was so marvelously like
+herself in appearance. Then she said quietly:
+
+"Would you mind telling me about yourself?"
+
+"Not a bit. Guess I ought to. You did me a good turn. My name's Meg."
+
+"I guessed that much."
+
+"How?"
+
+"That's what the man and the woman called me."
+
+"The man and the woman?" For a moment the girl's face was puzzled. Then,
+"Oh yes, I----"
+
+She paused for a moment as if about to tell something about the strange
+man and woman who had told Florence that the train left at eleven-thirty.
+If this had been her intention she thought better of it, for presently
+she said:
+
+"My mother and father are dead. Since I was ten years old I've lived with
+my uncle, mostly on ships."
+
+"How--how thrilling!"
+
+"Well, maybe, but you don't learn much on ships. There's an old saying:
+'You can't go to school if you live on a canal boat.' Ships are about as
+bad. I've got through eighth grade, though, and I want to go some more.
+That day I took your place and you wore my clothes I----"
+
+"Who--who's that?" Florence had heard the movement of feet outside.
+
+"No friend of mine; not this time of night. Must be yours."
+
+"It might be the man!"
+
+"What man? Your friend?"
+
+"No. Not my friend; an awful man who wanted the bag."
+
+"What bag?"
+
+"A bag I bought at an auction. My--my Christmas surprise. There--there he
+is," she whispered tensely as there came a knock at the door.
+
+"Come in," said Meg.
+
+"Oh, don't!" Florence struggled to her feet. "Don't let him in!"
+
+"Why not?" Meg had risen. In her hand was an affair resembling a
+policeman's club, only it was made of iron--a heavy belaying pin. "Why
+not?" she repeated. "If I don't fancy him, he'll let himself out fast
+enough." At the same time there came a rattle at the door knob. Florence
+sank back into her chair.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII
+                      THE MYSTERY LADY'S NEW ROLE
+
+
+Such a party as it was; that one which was being enjoyed by Lucile and
+her friends of the juvenile book corner. Such crisp brown cream biscuits!
+Such breast of turkey with cranberry sauce and dressing! Such pudding!
+Even in the days of her childhood at home Lucile had never seen a more
+sumptuous feast. All this, in the midst of the gayest of Christmas
+spirit, made the occasion one long to be remembered by any person whose
+mind was not too much occupied by bewitching thoughts of other important
+things.
+
+As for Lucile, her mind was indeed engaged with dreams that were far from
+the realm of food and drink. She was thinking of that meeting she had so
+long dreamed of and which she still had the courage to hope might come to
+pass, her own meeting with the Mystery Lady of the Christmas Spirit.
+
+"I shan't fail to recognize her," she assured herself, "though she be
+dressed like an Eskimo or a South Sea Island maiden."
+
+At last the time came for strolling down the Boulevard toward the music
+hall. Lucile stared at the passing throngs until Laurie teasingly asked
+her whether she hoped to see in one of them the face of a long lost
+brother.
+
+At last she found herself in the opera chair of the great hall. Now, at
+least, she was in the same room as the Mystery Lady, or soon must be, for
+if the Mystery Lady had not entered she soon would. In ten minutes the
+first note would be struck. There was a thrill in that.
+
+It was to be a truly wonderful program, such a one as the girl had
+perhaps never listened to before. And she loved music, fairly adored it.
+As she thought how her interest this night must be divided between the
+fine music and the Mystery Lady, she found herself almost wishing that
+the Mystery Lady had not brought into her life so much that was unusual,
+perplexing and mysterious.
+
+"Perhaps I shall be able to locate her before the music begins," she
+thought to herself. "Then, during a recess, I'll glide up to her and
+whisper, 'You are the Spirit of Christmas.'"
+
+Though she scanned the sea of faces near and far, not one of them all,
+save those of her own little group, was familiar to her.
+
+It was with a little sigh of resignation that she at last settled back in
+her seat and allowed her program to flutter to her lap.
+
+The time for the first number had arrived. The musicians had taken their
+places. The rows of violinists and cornetists, the standing bass viol
+player, the conductor with his baton, all were there. Like soldiers at
+attention, they waited for the soloist.
+
+Mademoiselle Patricia Diurno, the country's most talented young pianist,
+was to lead that night in the rendition of three master concertos.
+
+There was an expectant lull, then mighty applause. She was coming. At a
+door to the right she appeared. Down a narrow way between rows of
+musicians she passed, a tall, slim, gracefully beautiful lady.
+
+In the center of the stage she paused to bow in recognition of the
+applause, then again, and yet again. Then, turning with such grace as
+only a trained musician knows, she moved to her place and with a slight
+nod to the leader, placed her hands upon the keys, then sent them racing
+over the keys, bringing forth such glorious music as only might be
+learned beside a rushing brook in the depths of the forest.
+
+Lucile gripped her seat until her fingers ached. She strove to remain
+seated while her face went white and then was flushed with color.
+
+"It is she," she whispered to herself. "It cannot be, yet it is! The same
+eyes, the same nose, the same hair. I cannot be mistaken. It is she!
+Patricia Diurno, the celebrated, the most wonderful virtuoso, is the
+Mystery Lady and the Spirit of Christmas! And I? How am I to remain in
+this seat for two mortal hours while before me sits a woman pouring forth
+bewitching music, a woman who for a handclasp has the power to make me
+rich, yes, rich? Two hundred in gold. How--how can I?"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX
+                       MEG WIELDS A BELAYING PIN
+
+
+Florence started back at sight of the one who opened the door in response
+to Meg's "Come in." It was indeed the small man of the burning, hawk-like
+eyes. His disposition appeared to have been changed by his battle with
+the storm. It was plain from the first that he was now a man not to be
+trifled with; at least not by two girls in a lonely ship's cabin at an
+hour fast approaching midnight. He twisted his face into an ugly grin.
+His smile was more horrible than a snarl would have been. His white teeth
+showed like an angry dog's.
+
+"The bag!" he said in a tone that was a command. It was evident that he
+was both angry and desperate.
+
+"What bag?" said Meg, rising as her companion, wrapping her blanket
+closer about her, slunk further into the corner.
+
+"My bag!" His tone was threatening. He advanced a step.
+
+Florence could see a deep red stealing up beneath the natural tan of the
+daughter of the sea as she too advanced a step. Meg showed not the
+slightest fear.
+
+"There's no bag here." Her hand was behind her, gripping the belaying
+pin. "No bag at all unless you call that thing a bag." She pointed to a
+canvas duffel bag that hung in the corner. "That's mine. You can't have
+it. You can't have anything in this cabin. You can't even touch anything
+or anybody, so you better get out."
+
+"So!" The man's word was more like a hiss than a real expression of the
+word. At the same time his teeth were so uncovered that one might count
+them.
+
+"So!" He advanced another step.
+
+There came a faint click. Something bright gleamed in his right hand. A
+scream came to Florence's lips, but she did not utter it; she only sat
+and stared.
+
+"Yes," said Meg in an even tone, while the red mounted to the roots of
+her hair. "We get your kind on the ships too. We get all kinds."
+
+Then, like a tiger in the jungle, she leaped forward. There followed a
+resounding thwack; a heavy knife went jangling to the floor. The
+stranger's usually dark face turned a sickly white as, gripping a bruised
+wrist, he backed out of the room.
+
+Stepping to the door Meg closed it, but did not bother to lock it.
+
+Stooping, she picked up the knife and examined it carefully.
+
+"That," she said in a matter of fact tone, "is a good knife, much better
+than the one I use for slicing bacon. I shall keep it.
+
+"See," she said, holding it close to Florence, "it has a six-inch blade
+that locks when you open it. That's what made it click."
+
+Florence shrank from the thing.
+
+"He had no right to carry it," said Meg, closing it and dropping it into
+a chest. "It's a concealed weapon, and they're against the law. So I'll
+keep it. Now what about this bag?" she asked suddenly.
+
+"Why, you see," smiled Florence, "to-morrow's Christmas. Since I didn't
+expect a surprise from anyone, I decided to buy myself one. So I went
+down to an auction sale and bought a bag with 'contents if any.' I meant
+to buy a bag anyway, and the 'contents if any' was to be my surprise."
+
+"What did you get?" Meg asked, leaning forward eagerly.
+
+"I didn't look. I meant to keep the bag until to-morrow. It wouldn't be a
+Christmas surprise if I opened it before hand. And now it's gone!"
+
+"What--what did you expect to find?"
+
+"It might have been anything--silk scarfs, some splendid furs, jewelry, a
+watch--anything. And then again," her voice lost its enthusiasm, "it
+might have contained a man's collar and a suit of pajamas. I couldn't
+tell. Maybe it was just nothing at all. It was awful light."
+
+"All those things," said Meg, her eyes shining, "or any of them. What a
+pity! What fun you would have had!"
+
+For a moment she sat there in silence. Then suddenly, "Where's it gone?"
+
+"I--I lost it on the pier."
+
+"Where?" Meg sat up all alert.
+
+Florence told her as best she could.
+
+"I'll go get it." Meg dragged her coat from its hanger.
+
+"No! No! Don't!" Florence exclaimed, springing up. "It's dangerous."
+
+"What's to be afraid of?" laughed Meg. "Don't everybody on the pier know
+me? Even the watch-dog knows me? As for your late friend and follower,
+I'll just take my belaying pin along. But I guess he's far enough away by
+now. Watch me. I'll be back in half an hour with that bag--you wait and
+see."
+
+With a rush that let in a great gust of cold air and snow, she was out of
+the cabin and away.
+
+The greater part of what she had said to Florence was true. She did know
+the dock as well as any ship on which she had ever sailed. She knew the
+watchman and his dog. But, without her knowledge, there was one person in
+authority by the pier that night who did not know her and this the two
+girls were to learn to their sorrow.
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+Seeing a heavy dressing gown hanging in the corner, Florence rose and,
+discarding her blanket, put this robe on. Then, after feeling of her
+slowly drying clothes and moving her skirt closer to the stove, she
+walked to the door and locked it.
+
+"Meg may not be afraid of that man," she whispered to herself, "but I
+am."
+
+At once, as she began walking the floor of the narrow cabin, her mind
+went to work on the many unanswered questions stored away in her mind.
+Like some scientist examining specimens, she drew these questions one at
+a time from their mental pigeon holes.
+
+Why did this evil looking man with the scar above his eye want her bag so
+badly? Suddenly it occurred to her that he might be a thief, or a safe
+blower, and this bag might contain some of his valuable loot. She
+remembered reading of criminals who had locked their booty in trunks or
+bags and stored them in some public place until the police had gotten off
+their trail.
+
+"In that case," she told herself, "my surprise will be a disappointment.
+No matter how wonderful the contents may be, I will not keep the least
+bit of it, but turn it over to the police.
+
+"But then," she thought again, "probably Meg will not be able to get the
+bag. She may not be able to get in. Probably the watchman heard the dog
+and closed the door and window. And again, she may find it and that
+terrible man may take it from her."
+
+This last she doubted. Meg appeared abundantly able to take care of
+herself. Florence could not but admire her strength and bravery. It had
+been magnificent, the way she had put that villainous intruder to flight.
+She thought of what the girl had said about being reared on a steamship
+and wanting more education. She found herself longing to help her. And
+why not? She roomed alone. Hers was a large bed, large enough for two,
+and she thought she could get a scholarship for her in the academy
+connected with the university. Anyway, it could be managed somehow. There
+were elevators in great hotels close to the school that must be run.
+Perhaps she could find her a part time position on one of these. She
+would talk to her about it as soon as opportunity offered.
+
+But who was she, after all? She had been telling her story when that man
+broke in upon them. Would she have told why she asked Florence to wear
+her clothes for a half day and play the role of Meg? If she had, what
+would her reason have been?
+
+During the time that these problems had passed in review in her memory
+she had been walking the cabin floor. Now she came to a sudden pause. Had
+she heard footsteps on the deck below? She thought so. Yes, there it was
+again, more plainly now. They were mounting the stairs. Who could it be?
+Was it that man? She shuddered. Springing to the corner, she put out a
+hand for Meg's belaying pin. It was gone. The door was locked, but the
+lock looked very weak. What was she to do? It did not seem possible that
+Meg could be back so soon. She had----
+
+A hand tried the door. What should she do? Should she let the person in?
+
+Certainly she should, for in Meg's unmistakable voice she heard:
+
+"Let me in."
+
+When Florence threw open the door she saw at a glance that Meg had the
+bag and that the seal was unbroken.
+
+"Tell you what," began Florence, "you go home with me to-night. To-morrow
+is Christmas. We don't have to get up early. We'll have something hot to
+drink and some cakes, and we'll talk a little. Then, just as the clock
+strikes twelve, we'll break the seal to the bag. Won't that be romantic?"
+
+"I should say!" said Meg with gleaming eyes. "That would be spiffy! When
+do we start?"
+
+"At once," said Florence, pulling her clothing from the line.
+
+They were not destined to get away so easily, however. Unfortunately for
+them, there was a person near the entrance to the pier that night whom
+Meg did not know, had in fact never seen.
+
+The wharf to which the boats were tied lay a distance of about a block
+south of the entrance to the pier, and the particular boat on which Meg
+had taken up quarters was tied about two blocks from the end of the pier.
+In order to reach the car line they were obliged to battle their way
+against the storm, which had increased in violence, until they were near
+the entrance to the pier.
+
+They had covered these three blocks and had paused to catch their breath
+and to watch for the light of a street car boring its way through the
+whirl of snow, when a gruff voice said:
+
+"Where y' think y'r goin'?"
+
+"Why, we--" Florence hesitated.
+
+"What you got in that bag?"
+
+Florence turned to find herself looking into the face of a young
+policeman.
+
+She flashed a glance at Meg. That one glance convinced her that Meg did
+not know him.
+
+"Where--where's Tim?" Meg faltered.
+
+"Tim who?"
+
+"Tim McCarty. This is his beat."
+
+"'T'aint now. It's mine. He's been transferred. What's more," he paused
+to lay a gloved hand on the travelling bag, "since this is my beat, part
+of my job's findin' out what comes off them ships at night. What y' got
+in that bag?"
+
+"I--I don't know," Florence said the words impulsively, and regretted
+them the instant they were said.
+
+"Don't know--" he ceased speaking to stare at her. "Say, sister, you're
+good! Don't know what you've got in that bag! In that case all I can do
+is take you to the station for questioning.
+
+"No," he said in a kindlier tone after a moment's thought, "maybe if
+you'll unlock it and let me see what's inside I'll let you go."
+
+Open it and let him see what was inside? Florence's head was in a whirl.
+Open it? What if her fears proved true? What if it contained stolen
+goods? Why, then she would see the first light of Christmas morning
+behind prison bars. Was ever anyone in such a mess? Did ever a girl pay
+so dearly for her own Christmas surprise?
+
+But Meg was speaking: "Say, you see here," she said to the young
+policeman, her voice a low drawl. Florence heard them indistinctly
+against the roar of the storm. So there she stood with her back to the
+wind, clinging tightly to the handle of her bag and hoping against hope
+that she would not be obliged to reveal her secret there and then.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XX
+                            THE GREAT MOMENT
+
+
+The revelation that had come to Lucile as she sat there listening to the
+first notes of a great concerto, led by a famous virtuoso, was so
+unusual, so altogether startling, that she felt tempted to doubt her
+senses.
+
+"Surely," she whispered to herself, "I must be mistaken. There is a
+resemblance, but she is not that woman. Imagine a great virtuoso, one of
+the famous musicians of our land, being in a department store at two
+hours before midnight! Fancy her going up and down streets, in and out of
+the stores and shops dressed in all manner of absurd costumes, playing
+the star role in a newspaper stunt to increase circulation! How
+impossible! How--how utterly absurd!"
+
+She paused for reflection and as she paused, as if to join her in quiet
+thought, the great musician allowed her flying fingers to come to rest on
+the keyboard while a violin soloist did his part.
+
+Then, quick as light, but not too swiftly for Lucile's keen eyes, she
+slipped something from her finger, a something that sent off a brilliant
+flash of light. This she placed on the piano beside the keyboard.
+
+To Lucile, resting as it did against the black of the ebony piano, this
+thing stood out like a circle of stars against the deep blackness of
+night. She felt her lips forming the words:
+
+"Don't put it there! A hundred people will see it!"
+
+That dull gray circle with the flashing spot of light was a ring;
+Cordie's iron ring with its diamond setting. There was no longer a single
+vestige of doubt in the girl's mind regarding the identity of the Mystery
+Lady and the Spirit of Christmas. They were one and the same, and
+together they were Patricia Diurno, the celebrated virtuoso.
+
+Somehow Lucile got through that two hours without screaming or jumping
+from her seat to hurl herself upon the platform, but she will never quite
+know just how she did it. At times she drove the whole affair from her
+mind to think of other unsolved problems--of Laurie and the lost author;
+of Cordie, and of Sam. At other times she found herself completely
+absorbed by the wonderful music which poured forth.
+
+The majesty of the music grew as the evening passed. When at last the
+orchestra struck out into that masterpiece, Tschaikowsky's Concerto in B
+minor, she forgot all else to lose herself in the marvelous rise and fall
+of cadent sound that resembled nothing so much as a storm on a rockbound
+coast.
+
+The piano, leading on, called now to the violin to join in, then upon the
+cello, the bass viols, the cornets, the saxophones, the trombones, the
+trap-drums, until all together, in perfect unison, they sent forth such a
+volume of sound as shook the very walls.
+
+The great virtuoso, forgetful of all else, gave herself completely to her
+music. Turning first this way, then that, she beckoned the lagging
+orchestra on until a climax had been reached.
+
+Then, after a second of such silence as is seldom experienced save after
+a mighty clap of thunder, as if from somewhere away in a distant forest
+there came the tinkle, tinkle of the single instrument as her velvet
+tipped fingers glided across the keys.
+
+A single violin joined in, then another and another, then all of them,
+until again the great chorus swelled to the very dome of the vast
+auditorium.
+
+This was the music that, like the songs of mermaids of old, charm men
+into forgetfulness; that lifts them and carries them away from all dull
+care, all sordid affairs of money and all temptation to the mean, the low
+and the base.
+
+It so charmed Lucile that for a full moment after the last note had been
+struck and the last echo of applause had died away, she sat there
+listening to the reverberations of the matchless music that still sounded
+in her soul.
+
+When she awoke from her revery it was with a mighty start.
+
+"Where is she?" she exclaimed, leaping from her seat.
+
+"Who?" said Laurie.
+
+"Patricia Diurno! The Mystery Lady! Spirit of Christmas! Where has she
+gone?"
+
+Staring to right and left, she found her way blocked. Then with the
+nimbleness of an obstacle racer, she vaulted over four rows of seats to
+dash away through the milling crowd toward the platform.
+
+"Where is she?" she demanded of an attendant.
+
+"Who, Miss?"
+
+"The--the Mystery Lady. No, No! Miss Diurno, the virtuoso."
+
+"Most likely in the Green Room, Miss. Who--who--is some of her folks
+dead?"
+
+"No, no! But please show me where the Green Room is, quick!"
+
+Leading the way, he took her to the back of the stage, through a low
+door, down a long passage-way to a large room where a number of people
+stood talking.
+
+A glance about the place told her that Miss Diurno was not there.
+
+"Is this the Green Room?"
+
+"Yes, Miss."
+
+"Then where is she?"
+
+"I don't know, Miss. You might ask him."
+
+He nodded to a large man in an evening suit.
+
+"Where--where is Miss Diurno?" she asked timidly.
+
+"Miss Diurno did not stay. She left at once."
+
+"Gone!" Lucile murmured. "And my opportunity gone with it." Sinking
+weakly into a chair, she buried her face in her hands.
+
+This lasted but a moment; then she was up and away like the wind. Miss
+Diurno, the Mystery Woman, Spirit of Christmas, had gone out on the
+Boulevard. She had promised, through the news columns, to be about the
+Boulevard until midnight. There was still a chance.
+
+Hurrying back to the now almost deserted hall, she found Laurie and
+Cordie waiting for her.
+
+"Well now, what does this mean?" Laurie laughingly demanded. "Did you
+recognize in the hands of some violinist the Stradivarius that was stolen
+from your grandfather fifty years ago?"
+
+"Not quite that," Lucile smiled back. "I did discover that someone has
+vanished, someone I must find. Yes, yes, I surely must!" She clenched her
+hands tight in her tense excitement. "I want you two to promise to walk
+the Boulevard with me until midnight, that is, if I don't find her
+sooner. Will you? Promise me!"
+
+"'Oh promise me,'" Laurie hummed. "Some contract! What say, Cordie? Are
+you in on it?"
+
+"It sounds awfully interesting and mysterious. Let's do."
+
+"All right, we're with you till the clock strikes for Christmas morning."
+
+Lucile led the way out of the hall. They were soon out in the cool, crisp
+air of night. There had been a storm but now the storm had passed. The
+night was bright with stars.
+
+To promenade the Boulevard at this hour on such a night was not an
+unpleasant task. Out from a midnight blue sky the golden moon shone
+across a broad expanse of snow which covered the park, while to the left
+of them, as if extending their arms to welcome jolly old St. Nicholas,
+the great buildings loomed toward the starry heavens.
+
+The street was gay with light and laughter, for was not this the night of
+all nights, the night before Christmas?
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI
+                            THE MAN IN GRAY
+
+
+"I know of an odd old custom which might prove interesting," said Laurie
+as the three of them walked arm in arm along the boulevard. "I've
+forgotten to what little out of the way corner of the world it belongs,
+but anyway, in the villages of that land, sometime near to midnight, on
+Christmas Eve, friends gather about small tables in their taverns and
+over the festive board talk of the year that is gone. The strange part is
+this: Just to make it a clearing up time of unsolved problems, each
+member of the group may select one other member of that group and may ask
+him three questions. Each member is pledged to answer all three questions
+frankly and truthfully."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Cordie. "I'd not like to get caught in a crowd like
+that."
+
+"Too bad," sighed Laurie. "I was about to propose that a half hour before
+midnight we get together to celebrate in just that way. I think I can
+pick up a person or two whose secrets would be of interest to some people
+I know."
+
+"That would be wonderful," exclaimed Lucile. "But must we select one
+person, only one?"
+
+"One, that's all."
+
+"And ask him just three questions; no more?"
+
+"Not another one."
+
+"Eenie-meenie-minie-mo," exclaimed Lucile, pointing her finger first at
+Cordie, then at Laurie,
+
+  "Catch a monkey by the toe,
+  If he hollers, let him go,
+  Eenie-meenie-minie-mo.
+
+"Laurie, you're my choice," she laughed. "I'll ask three questions of
+you, though goodness knows I'd like to ask them of Cordie."
+
+"Wait," said Laurie holding up a warning finger. "There may be someone
+there who is more interesting to you than we are."
+
+"There's only one such person in the world," exclaimed Lucile, "and--and
+I hope I may meet her before that hour comes."
+
+She was a little surprised at the glances Laurie and Cordie exchanged and
+greatly puzzled by the fact that they did not ask her who that person
+was.
+
+Laurie and Cordie gave themselves over to the gaiety of the night. The
+blazing light, the splendid cars that went gliding down the Boulevard,
+the magnificent furs worn by those who chose to promenade the broad
+sidewalk, were sights to catch any eye.
+
+They did not hold Lucile's attention. She had eyes for but one sight, the
+glimpse of a single face. What that glimpse would mean to her! Room rent
+paid, term bills paid, a warm coat, other needed clothing, a last minute
+present which she had been too poor to purchase, and a snug little sum in
+the bank. All these it would mean, and more; two hundred in gold.
+
+But the face did not appear. For an hour they walked the Boulevard, yet
+no sight of the Mystery Lady, she of the Christmas Spirit, came to them.
+One matter troubled Lucile more and more. Often in her search she looked
+behind her. More than once, four times in fact, she had caught sight of a
+man who walked always at exactly the same distance behind them. A tall
+man, it was, with a long gray coat, a high collar turned up and cap
+pulled low.
+
+"It isn't just because he happens to be walking in our direction," she
+told herself with a little shiver. "Twice we have turned and walked back
+and once we crossed the street. But all the time he has been directly
+behind us. I wonder what it could mean?"
+
+At that moment there came the clatter of hoofs and four mounted
+policemen, clad in bright uniform, came riding down the Boulevard.
+
+"It's a big night," exclaimed Laurie. "There's a special squad of them
+out."
+
+"Oh there--there he is!" exclaimed Cordie. "There's Dick! That's Patrick
+O'Hara riding him! Aren't they splendid? And right beside him is Tim,
+good old Tim. See! They recognized me. They touched their hats!"
+
+"Who's Tim?" asked Lucile.
+
+"Don't you wish you knew?" taunted Cordie. "If only you were going to ask
+your questions of me you'd be sure to find out."
+
+"Don't worry," smiled Laurie. "I've just decided that you shall be the
+person to answer my three questions."
+
+"You horrid thing! I shan't go! I'm off your old party!" In mock anger,
+she sprang away from her companions and went racing on ahead of them.
+
+Then strange and startling things began to happen. A long, low-built blue
+roadster, which had been creeping along the curb as if looking for
+someone, came to a grinding stop. A man leaped out. A second later a
+piercing scream reached the ears of Laurie and Lucile.
+
+"It's Cordie!" exclaimed Lucile. "Some--something terrible! C'mon!"
+
+As she said this a gray streak shot past her. Even in this wild moment of
+excitement, she recognized the man who had been dogging their footsteps
+and she wondered why she had not recognized him sooner.
+
+The next second they were in the midst of things. With wildly beating
+heart Lucile stared at the panorama that was enacted before her.
+Powerless to aid, she saw Cordie, the innocent country girl, the center
+of a battle, snatched from hand to hand until it seemed the very life
+must be torn from her.
+
+First she caught a glimpse of her fighting frantically but vainly in the
+grasp of a man. Lucile recognized him instantly.
+
+"The hawk-eyed man!" she whispered. "The one who claimed to be her
+brother! Quick!" she exclaimed, gripping Laurie's arm until her fingers
+cut into the very flesh. "Quick! They're taking her to the auto. They'll
+carry her away!"
+
+Active as he was, Laurie was not the first to leap at the hawk-eyed one.
+A man in gray, the man who had been following them, sprang squarely at
+the captor's throat.
+
+With a howl of rage and fear the villain loosed one hand to strike out at
+his mysterious assailant. All in vain; the rescuer came straight on.
+Striking the captor squarely in the middle, he bowled him over like a
+ten-pin. So sudden was this attack that Cordie was also thrown to the
+pavement.
+
+Finding herself free and unharmed, she sprang to her feet. She felt a
+hand at her elbow and turned to look into the face of Laurie Seymour.
+
+"Ah!" she breathed, "I am safe!"
+
+But even as she said this she saw Laurie collapse like an empty sack, and
+the next instant grasped from behind by two clutching hands, she was
+again whirled toward the kidnapper's car.
+
+Half blinded by terror, she caught a vision of police blue that hovered
+above her.
+
+"Pat! Patrick O'Hara!" she called.
+
+There came the angry crack of an automatic. Then the figure in blue came
+hurtling off the horse to fall at her feet. At the same instant there was
+a second catapult-like blow of the man in gray. Again she was snatched
+free.
+
+"Jiggers! Beat it! Beat it!" she heard in a hoarse whisper. The next
+instant the door to the blue car slammed shut and its wheels began to
+move.
+
+For three seconds she wavered there, watching the car move away. Then
+catching a glimpse of Patrick O'Hara lying at her feet, wounded, perhaps
+dead, a great courage came to her.
+
+"They must not escape!" she screamed. "They shall not!"
+
+The next instant she leaped into the saddle of the police horse, Dick.
+Just as the noble animal dashed away she felt the solid impact of someone
+mounting behind her.
+
+One glance she cast behind her. "Oh!" she breathed. It was the man in
+gray. To Dick she whispered: "All right, Dick, old dear, Go! Go fast! For
+the love of Patrick O'Hara and Laurie Seymour; for the love of all that's
+good and true, go; go as you never went before!"
+
+There was no need to talk to Dick. He was away like the wind.
+
+It was a moment of high suspense and swift action; one of those moments
+when success or failure hinges on the right move at the right second.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXII
+                               THE FINISH
+
+
+Dick was no ordinary horse. He was an unusual horse who had very unusual
+masters. The young policeman had spoken the truth when he said that Pat
+O'Hara's horse was the smartest on the force. As Dick felt his young
+mistress in the saddle and the man in gray behind her, he realized that
+this was not to be a race, but a fight. He seemed to sense that his task
+was to keep in sight of that racing blue automobile, and not for one
+instant to lose sight of it.
+
+Follow it he did, and that at the peril of his own life and the lives of
+those who rode. Now dashing past a low, closed car, now crowding between
+two black sedans, now all but run down by a great yellow car, he forged
+straight ahead.
+
+He not only followed; he actually gained. Leaning far forward in the
+saddle, Cordie kept her eyes upon the fleeing car. Now they were but
+three quarters of a block away, now a half, now a quarter.
+
+It was an exciting moment. Beads of perspiration stood out upon the tip
+of Cordie's nose. The hand that held the reins trembled. They were
+gaining, gaining, gaining. Through narrow passages impossible to a car,
+old Dick crowded forward like a fleet, sure-footed dog. Now a yard he
+gained, now a rod, and now a long stretch of open. They were gaining,
+gaining, gaining! What were they to do once the car was overtaken? That
+Cordie could not tell. She only knew one thing clearly--the men in the
+car must not escape and she was determined to prevent their escape.
+
+Then, as they neared a cross street, a man stepped out on the running
+board and flashed an automatic. Aiming deliberately, he fired. The next
+instant, with the din of a hundred sets of brakes screaming in their
+ears, Cordie, the horse and the man in gray were piled all in a heap in
+the middle of the street.
+
+In the midst of all this there came a crash. What was that? Dared she
+hope it was the villains' car? At sound of it the man in gray was up and
+away like mad.
+
+"What's this?" she heard an unfamiliar voice saying. A man from the
+nearest car behind them had come to the aid of the girl and the horse.
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+In the meantime, Lucile was passing through experiences quite as strange.
+
+Laurie Seymour had been knocked unconscious by a blow on the head.
+Patrick O'Hara had been shot from his horse. How serious were the
+injuries of these, her friends?
+
+To determine this, then to see what might be done for their relief; this
+appeared to be her duty, even though Cordie was in grave danger still.
+
+Men pressed forward to assist her. They carried the unconscious ones into
+the lobby of a hotel. There they were stretched out upon davenports and
+remedies applied by the house physician.
+
+Lucile was engaged in stopping the flow of blood from Patrick O'Hara's
+scalp wound. She chanced to look up and there, at the edge of the
+davenport, she caught sight of a familiar face.
+
+"Miss Diurno! The Mystery Lady! Spirit of Christmas! Two Hundred in
+gold!" her mind registered automatically, but her fingers held rigidly to
+their task.
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+As Cordie struggled to her feet, after being plunged from the back of the
+fallen horse, she saw the man in gray leap for the side of an automobile
+that had crashed into the curb. A thrill ran through her as she realized
+that this was the blue racer. The next instant, after fairly tearing the
+door from the hinges, the man in gray dragged a man out of the blue car,
+threw him to the pavement and held him rigidly there.
+
+There came the clatter of horse's hoofs, and then down sprang good old
+Tim, the police sergeant, and his fellow officer.
+
+"He's a bad one," growled the one in gray. "If you've got handcuffs, put
+'em on him."
+
+Tim hesitated. How was an officer to know who was in the right? This
+might be but a Christmas Eve fight. He had not witnessed the beginning of
+this affair.
+
+A hand tugged at his sleeve. "If you please, Tim," came a girlish voice,
+"It's me, the one who stole Patrick O'Hara's horse. If you'll believe me
+you better take his word for it. He's right."
+
+"Oh, he is, eh?" rumbled Tim. "Little girl, what you say goes. I'd trust
+you any time. On they go."
+
+The hawk-eyed man, for it was he that had been captured (his accomplice
+had vanished) made one more desperate effort to escape, but failed. The
+handcuffs were snapped on and he was led away by the younger officer.
+
+"Now," said Tim in a sterner voice, "tell me how Pat O'Hara's horse comes
+to be lyin' there in the street?"
+
+"He--he shot him," Cordie gulped, pointing away toward the hawk-eyed man.
+
+"He did, did he? Then he should be hung."
+
+"Pat--Patrick O'Hara's sho--shot too," Cordie was very near to tears. "If
+it hadn't been for him," she nodded to the figure in gray, "we--we
+wouldn't have got him, though Dick and I would have done our--our best,
+for he--he shot our good good friend Pat O'Hara." At this, Cordie's long
+pent up tears came flooding forth as she hid her face on good old Tim's
+broad breast.
+
+"That's all right," he soothed, patting her on the shoulders. "It's not
+as bad as you think. Look! There's old Dick getting to his feet now."
+
+It was true. The man in gray had walked over to where Dick lay, had
+coaxed the horse to get up, and was now leading him limping to the curb.
+
+"It's only a flesh wound in the leg," he explained. "Give him a week or
+ten days and he'll be on the beat again. Dick, old boy," he said huskily,
+"and you too, dear little Cordie, I want to thank you for what you've
+done for me. I--I've had my revenge, if a man has a right to revenge. And
+it might be they'll find the fox skins among his plunder."
+
+The eyes of the man in gray, just now brimming with honest tears, were
+turned toward Cordie. It was James, the seaman and bundle carrier!
+
+For a moment he gripped the girl's hand, then turning to Tim, said:
+
+"You'll look after her? See that she gets safely back to her friends?"
+
+"Oh sure! Sure!"
+
+"Then I'll be getting over to the police station. They'll be wanting
+someone to prefer charges."
+
+He was turning to go, but Cordie called him back. Handing him a slip of
+paper on which she had scribbled a number and an address, she said:
+
+"Call me on the phone at that number to-morrow, or else at the Butler
+House before midnight. I want to know whether you get those wonderful
+silver fox skins back. I--might have a customer for them if you do."
+
+"It would make a great little old Christmas for me if I did," he smiled.
+"But it's going to be all right anyway."
+
+Reading the address Cordie had given him, James gave a great start.
+"Right on the Gold Coast!" was his mental comment. "Out where there is
+nothing but palaces and mansions!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII
+                              MEG'S SECRET
+
+
+And what of Florence and Meg? They had not fared so badly after all.
+Three minutes after her first meeting with the young policeman, Florence
+was thinking fine things about Meg.
+
+"This girl Meg certainly has a way about her," she thought. "She does
+things to people."
+
+She wondered what Meg had done to the young policeman. "Surely," she told
+herself, "she didn't use that iron belaying pin on him the way she did on
+that terrible man who had been following me. No, she didn't do that,
+though I suspect she still has it hidden up her sleeve."
+
+One thing was sure, she had done something to the young policeman.
+Florence hadn't heard what Meg had said, but she did know that one moment
+he was frightening the very life out of her by demanding that she unlock
+the bag and show him the contents, which was quite as much unknown to her
+as to him, and the next he had let out a low chuckling laugh and had told
+her she might run along. How was she to account for that?
+
+She didn't bother much to account for it. She was too much pleased at
+being able to go on her way, and carrying with her the bag with its
+secret securely sealed. She would know about Meg later. Meg had promised
+to tell.
+
+It was only after they had started on that she noticed that the storm had
+blown itself out and the stars were shining. They were soon aboard a car
+bound for home.
+
+An hour later, in the warmth of her room, and with the bag at their feet,
+Florence and Meg sat dreamily thinking their own thoughts.
+
+Florence was not sure that she did not sleep a little. After the wild
+experiences of the night, followed by the battle with the storm, this
+would not be surprising.
+
+She did not sleep long, however, and soon they fell to talking in the way
+girls will when the hour is approaching midnight and the strenuous
+experiences of an exciting night are all at an end.
+
+At an end, did I say? Well, not quite. Perhaps you might say not at all;
+for did not the mysterious brown leather traveling bag, which had been
+wondered about and fought over, rest on the floor at their feet? And was
+not the seal unbroken? Did it not still contain Florence's Christmas
+secret? And now it was just twenty-five minutes until midnight, the
+witching hour when secrets are revealed.
+
+"There is just time for you to finish telling me about yourself before
+the tower clock strikes midnight," said Florence, glancing at the small
+clock on her desk.
+
+"Oh!" laughed Meg with a little shrug of her wonderful shoulders. "There
+really isn't much to tell. I've already told you that since I was a slip
+of a child I've lived on ships with my uncle. He's a mate. We've been on
+a lot of ships because he often drinks too much and can't hold his
+position. He's a big gruff man, but kind enough in his way."
+
+"That man who----"
+
+"No, the man who told you about the train was not my uncle. That was Tim,
+a sailor. My uncle sent him.
+
+"Well, you know," she went on, "at first I was just sort of a ship's
+mascot and the sailors' plaything. They rode me on their backs and
+carried me, screaming with delight, to the top of the mast.
+
+"That didn't last long. They found I could peel potatoes, so they put me
+to work. And I've been at work ever since."
+
+She spread out her hands and Florence saw that they were as seamed and
+hard as a farmer's wife's.
+
+"I don't mind work," Meg continued. "I love it. But I like to learn
+things, too; like to learn them out of books, with folks to tell me what
+it means. I've gone to school all I could, but it wasn't much. I want to
+go some more.
+
+"Uncle has signed up for a sea voyage through the Canal to England. He
+wanted me to go along as cook. It's a lumber ship; sure to be a rough
+crew. I don't mind 'em much."
+
+Something suddenly clattered on the floor. It was Meg's belaying pin.
+
+"I--I guess you sort of get rough when you go on the sea," she
+apologized, smiling. "That's partly why I didn't want to go. My uncle
+would have made me go that day you changed places with me, if he'd found
+me. He likes to have me along because he can get a better berth himself
+if he can bring along a good cook. Good sea cooks are scarce.
+
+"I'm not going now. His train's gone and he's gone. He left that day."
+
+"So that was what the man and the woman meant by the train leaving at
+eleven-thirty?" asked Florence.
+
+"Yes. That woman was the matron of the Seamen's Home. She thought I ought
+to go. She didn't know everything. She didn't understand. I'm eighteen.
+My uncle hasn't any right to claim me now, and I owe him nothing.
+Everything that's been done for me I've paid for--paid with hard labor."
+Again she spread her seamed hands out on her lap.
+
+"But now," she said after a moment's silence, "now I'm not sure that I
+know how I'm going to school. It costs a lot, I suppose, and besides I've
+got to live. They let me stay on that ship. That's something, but it's a
+long way from any school, and besides----"
+
+"Wait," Florence broke in. "Let me tell you----"
+
+But just then Meg held up a warning finger. Loud and clear there rang out
+over the snow the midnight chimes.
+
+"Midnight," whispered Florence, reaching out a hand for the bewitching
+bag.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIV
+                            THREE QUESTIONS
+
+
+"He's coming round all right." It was the house doctor of the hotel who
+spoke. Lucile was still bending over Patrick O'Hara. "He's regaining
+consciousness. It's only a scalp wound. A narrow squeak. An inch to the
+right, and it would have got him. He'd better go to the hospital for a
+little extra petting and patching, but he's in no danger--not the least.
+And as for your friend Laurie--he's got a bump on his head that'll do to
+hang his hat on for a day or two. But outside of perhaps a bit of a
+headache, he's O. K. Your friends are riding under a lucky star, I'd
+say."
+
+"A lucky star," thought Lucile. Again she was free. Had the Lady of the
+Spirit of Christmas vanished? No. For once fortune was with her. As if
+fascinated by the scene, the lady still stood there, looking down at
+Patrick O'Hara.
+
+Twenty seconds later this lady felt a tug at her arm as a girl in a low
+but excited whisper said: "You are the Spirit of Christmas."
+
+"What?" the lady stared at her for a second, then a smile lighted her
+face. "Oh yes, why to be sure! So I am. In the excitement of the moment I
+had quite forgotten. Surely I am. So it is you who win? I am glad, so
+very, very glad! I do believe you recognized me five minutes ago, and
+that you've been working over that brave young policeman ever since, when
+I might easily have slipped away. What wonderful unselfishness! Here is
+the gold!"
+
+Lucile felt a hard lump of something pressed into her hand and without
+looking down knew that it was ten double eagles. A warm glow crept over
+her.
+
+"I did see you," she said, after murmuring her thanks, "but you see
+Patrick O'Hara was wounded trying to rescue a friend of mine. So how
+could I desert him for gold?"
+
+"Yes, yes, how could you? Who was your friend?"
+
+"Cordie."
+
+"Oh! Cordie? Was she in danger?" the lady exclaimed excitedly. "Where is
+she? I must go to her at once!"
+
+"Here! Here I am, Auntie!" cried an excited and tremulous young voice.
+The next moment little Cordie was enfolded in the arms of the Mystery
+Lady, Spirit of Christmas. And this lady was also Miss Diurno, the great
+virtuoso, and Cordie had called her Auntie!
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+At exactly a half hour before midnight on this most exciting Christmas
+Eve, four people sat at a round table in the Butler House. There was a
+distinguished looking lady, a young man with a bump on his head that made
+his hair stand up in a circle, a young lady of college age, and a girl in
+her teens. They were the Mystery Lady, Laurie Seymour, Lucile and Cordie.
+
+Ice cream and cakes had been served; coffee was on the way. Laurie had
+finished explaining to Miss Diurno the ancient custom of some long
+forgotten land, that of answering, truthfully, three questions round.
+
+"But Laurie, old dear," she protested, "why should I ask three questions
+of you? I already know far too much about you for my own good peace of
+mind; and as for Cordie, I fancy I know more about her than she knows
+about herself. I move we amend the custom a little. How would it do to
+allow our friend Lucile to ask all the questions--three around for each
+of us?"
+
+"Oh! That would be darling!" exclaimed Lucile, fairly leaping from her
+chair. "You are all so very, very mysterious. There are so many, many
+things I'd like to know."
+
+"Agreed!" exclaimed Laurie.
+
+"I don't mind," smiled Cordie.
+
+"Good. That's settled," said Miss Diurno, whose very greatness as a
+musician so affected Lucile that she found it very difficult to be her
+usual frank and friendly self. "Miss Lucile, you may have ten minutes for
+thinking up questions. Then, over our coffee, we will answer them. But
+remember, only three questions, three around."
+
+"Only three," Lucile whispered to herself. "And there is so much I want
+to know! So much I just _must_ know!"
+
+As she sat there, with her head all in a whirl, trying in vain to form
+the questions she wished to ask, one conviction was borne in upon her.
+She had been the center of a plot, a very friendly plot, she was sure of
+that, and one that had been entered into the truest of Christmas spirit.
+Cordie had known Miss Diurno all the time, in fact had only a short time
+ago called her Auntie. Miss Diurno had called Laurie by a familiar
+name--she had said "Old dear." She must have known him a long time. Then
+surely, to be a friend to such an one, he must be something rather great
+himself. And Cordie? She could scarcely be the simple little country girl
+she had thought her. Lucile's mind was in such a daze that when the great
+pianist tapped her wrist watch and said: "Time's up. Who's the first?"
+she had not formed one question.
+
+"Age before beauty," laughed Cordie.
+
+"Well, that's me?" smiled Miss Diurno. "I am ready to be questioned."
+
+"Why--er--" stammered Lucile. "Why did you, who are such a very great
+musician, undertake the humble task of assisting in a newspaper stunt?"
+
+"Dear little girl," said Miss Diurno, a very mellow note of kindness
+creeping into her voice, "there are no great people in the world, and
+there are no truly humble tasks. All people who are truly great are also
+very humble. Tasks called humble by men may be truly great.
+
+"But you have asked me a question. The reason I accepted that newspaper
+task was this: Marie Caruthers, my very best school chum and lifetime
+friend, went in for newspaper work. She was to have done the stunt, but
+just when the time came she was taken to the hospital. So I volunteered
+to take her place. And it was fun, heaps of it! Just imagine having the
+whole city looking for you and yet to be walking in and out among the
+people every day and not a single one of them recognizing you at all.
+
+"But there were times enough when I got into plenty of trouble. That
+night in the department store was a scream!"
+
+"Not so much of a scream for me," grumbled Laurie. "I gave you my
+pass-out. Then after knocking nearly all the skin off my hand going down
+the bundle chute, I had to sleep in the basement, with corrugated paper
+for mattress and covers."
+
+"Poor old Laurie!" smiled Miss Diurno. "But you deserved all you got.
+Think of the role you have been playing! Think! Just think!" laughed the
+pianist.
+
+"You see," she said, turning to Lucile to explain her presence in the
+store that night, "I had promised to be in the store six hours that day.
+Then I allowed myself to become absorbed in some new music, and the first
+thing I knew it was getting late in the afternoon and my six hours not
+yet begun. Of course there was nothing for it but to remain in the store
+after closing hours. I hid in that long narrow place, wedged myself
+between book shelves and stands, then stuck there until the clock struck
+ten.
+
+"I hadn't realized that it would be hard to get out. When I did think of
+it I was terror-stricken. To think of remaining in that great vault of a
+store all night! Ugh! It gives me the shivers to think of it, even now. I
+haven't the least notion what I would have done if I hadn't come upon
+good old Laurie. He gave me his pass-out. You saw him do it. I knew this
+at the time, and I think you were a great little sport not to raise a big
+rumpus, especially after I took your coat."
+
+"Why did you take my coat?" asked Lucile.
+
+"I was afraid I couldn't get out in that fur cape. And besides, I wanted
+just such a coat as yours for the next day's stunt. So I traded with you.
+That was fair enough, wasn't it?"
+
+"Traded? What do you mean?"
+
+"Just what I said, just traded, and thanked you for the opportunity. And
+now, my dear, that makes three questions."
+
+"Three," Lucile cried excitedly. "Why no, I've only asked one."
+
+"Leave it to the crowd," beamed the great little lady.
+
+"Three! Three!" agreed Laurie and Cordie with one voice.
+
+"Why--why then I shall be obliged to take up someone else."
+
+"Heads I'm next, tails I'm not," said Laurie, tossing a coin in air.
+"Heads! I'm it. Do your worst."
+
+"Who is Jefrey Farnsworth?" Lucile asked.
+
+"See!" exclaimed Laurie. "See what I get into right away! Well, since it
+is Christmas Eve, I dare not tell a lie. I am forced to inform you that
+the only gentleman at this table was given that name at his birth."
+
+"You--you are Jefrey Farnsworth?"
+
+"Quite right."
+
+"Be careful," warned Cordie, "You've used up two questions already."
+
+Lucile was silent for a moment, then with a smile she said:
+
+"Why did you take an assumed name, and who was Sam, and did he have
+anything to do with your selling books, and why were you afraid of him?"
+
+"That business of hanging your question on a string is great stuff,"
+laughed Laurie. "I recommend that you try it out on Cordie."
+
+Then in a more sober tone, he said:
+
+"You see it was this way: My publishers saw that my book was going to go
+across rather big and, since I was to benefit financially in its success,
+they thought it would be nice for me to have a part in making it a still
+greater--um--um, triumph. So they cooked up that idea about my speaking
+to ladies' clubs. I knew I couldn't do it, but I knew also that Sam would
+make me do it if I stuck around. Everyone does what Sam wants them to do;
+that is, they do if they stay where he is.
+
+"So I said to myself, 'If I must help sell my books, I'll do it in a
+straightforward way right over the counter. I'll get a job.' I did. And
+just so Sam couldn't find me and drag me away, I came to this city and
+took an assumed name.
+
+"Sam's a sort of salesman for my publishers; that is, he sells books when
+he isn't promoting authors. When I saw him in the store that time I just
+naturally had to disappear.
+
+"I think, though," he added, "that even Sam is satisfied. We sold two
+thousand copies of 'Blue Flames,' you and Donnie and Rennie and all the
+rest.
+
+"As for my knowing the lady of the hour," he smiled, touching the arm of
+Miss Diurno, "I've known her for some time. And on some future lovely day
+in June, when my income has come to be half as much as hers, we're going
+to move into a certain lovely little vine covered cottage I know about
+and set up a nest all for ourselves."
+
+"Good!" exclaimed Lucile. "Can't I come to see you?"
+
+"My dear," said the great musician, "you may come and live with us, both
+you and Cordie, live with us forever."
+
+"Cordie, your turn to be questioned," said Laurie.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Cordie, throwing her arms about Lucile and hiding her
+face in the folds of her dress. "I don't want you to ask me questions. I
+don't! I don't! I just want to confess how mean I have been and what an
+unkind trick I have played on you."
+
+"Why Cordie!" Lucile consoled her. "You've not been mean to me at all.
+You--you've been the dearest kind of a little pal!"
+
+"Oh, yes I have! I let you think I was a poor little girl from the
+country, when I wasn't at all. I allowed you to spend money on me and pay
+all the room rent when I just knew you thought you were going to have to
+live on milk toast all next term of school. And I never even offered to
+do my share at all.
+
+"But if you only knew," she raced on, "how good it seemed to have one
+friend who wasn't one bit selfish, who didn't want a lot of things for
+herself and who was willing to do things for other people when she really
+needed just plain ordinary things for herself. If you only knew! If you
+only did!" Cordie's voice rose shrill and high. She seemed about to burst
+into tears.
+
+"There, there, dear little pal!" whispered Lucile. "I think I understand.
+But tell me, why did you take a job as wrapper when you really wasn't
+poor and didn't need the money?"
+
+"Money!" laughed Cordie, now quite herself again. "I've never had to ask
+for any in my whole life! My father owns a third of that big store we
+worked in, and a lot besides."
+
+"But Dick?" said Lucile.
+
+"I rode Dick on my father's estate. It nearly broke my heart when they
+sold him. My father gave up his stables."
+
+"But you haven't told me why you wanted to work in the store."
+
+"Well, you see that day, the first day you ever saw me, just for fun I
+had dressed up in plain old fashioned clothes and had gone downtown for a
+lark. Then I did that foolish fainting stunt. I really, truly fainted.
+And that man, that hawk-eyed man--" she shuddered, "must have recognized
+me. He must have known he could get a lot of money from father if only he
+could carry me away. Anyway he tried it and you--saved me!" She paused to
+give Lucile another hug.
+
+"You are coming to my house for Christmas dinner, and I've kept track of
+everything in a little book and I'm going to pay you every cent, truly I
+am, and we'll have the best time.
+
+"But I was going to tell you," she paused in her mad ramble, "I was----"
+
+"Listen!" Miss Diurno held up a hand for silence, "Cordie, someone is
+paging your name. Here! Over here!" she called to the bell boy.
+
+"Telephone," said the boy.
+
+The three sat in silence until Cordie returned.
+
+"What do you think!" she exclaimed as she came bounding toward them. "It
+was James, my friend the bundle carrier at the phone. They've worked
+fast. They raided the room of--of the hawk-eyed man and they found James'
+silver fox skins. And Auntie, I'm going to have father buy them as a
+present for you. Won't that be g-grand!"
+
+"I should think it might," smiled her aunt, giving her arm an
+affectionate squeeze. "But, my dear, you hadn't finished telling Lucile."
+
+"Oh! That's a short story now. When I saw how good and kind you were,"
+Cordie said, turning to Lucile, "when I saw the work there was to do and
+everything, I was fascinated. I just wanted to play I was just what you
+thought me to be. So I called up my father and made him let me do it.
+That was all there was to it.
+
+"But Auntie!" she exclaimed, turning to Miss Diurno. "Why did you steal
+my badge of serfdom?"
+
+"Your what?"
+
+"My badge of serfdom, the iron ring. In olden days serfs wore iron
+collars; now it's an iron ring."
+
+"Oh, your iron ring!" laughed her aunt. "I needed it for my stunt. But
+here it is; you may have it and welcome, diamond and all."
+
+"I shall keep you ever and always," murmured the girl, pressing the ring
+to her lips. "I shall cherish you in memory of a grand and glorious
+adventure."
+
+"Of course you understood," said Miss Diurno, turning to Lucile, "that
+you are to keep the fur lined cape."
+
+"No, I----"
+
+"Oh yes, you must! It was the one extravagance that I made the paper pay
+for. I traded with you, and have lost yours, so there is really no other
+way out. Besides," her voice softened, "I want you to accept it as a gift
+from me, a little token of appreciation for your many kindnesses to my
+little niece."
+
+Lucile's head was in a whirl. She found herself unable to think clearly
+of all her good fortune. A great musician, an author, and a very rich
+girl for her friends; a magnificent cape of midnight blue and fox skin,
+and two hundred dollars in gold! Merry Christmas! What a Christmas it
+would be indeed!
+
+"Listen," whispered Miss Diurno. From some distant room there came the
+slow, sweet chimes of a clock.
+
+"Striking midnight," she whispered. Then from far and near there came the
+clanging of church bells.
+
+"Christmas morning!" exclaimed Miss Diurno, springing to her feet.
+"Merry, Merry Christmas to all!"
+
+"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" they chorused in return.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV
+                        WHAT THE BROWN BAG HELD
+
+
+At the precise moment that the four companions in the great city hotel
+rose to offer each other their Christmas greetings, Florence and Meg
+stood over the fascinating bag which had cost Florence so much worry and
+trouble. As Florence felt in her purse for the key she found herself
+wondering for the hundredth time what it might contain.
+
+"Christmas, my Christmas secret," she whispered. Then, as she felt the
+key within her grasp, she turned resolutely to the task. Although she had
+looked forward to this hour with pleasure, now it seemed to hold
+something of a feeling of fear. She was opening a bag which had belonged
+to another. What might it not contain?
+
+With trembling fingers she broke the seal which had so long and
+faithfully hidden the secret. Then, with a steadier hand, she inserted
+the key.
+
+For a full moment after that she stood there in silence. She was saying
+to herself over and over again: "There is nothing, nothing, nothing in
+there that I shall care for. Nothing, nothing, nothing."
+
+Thus fortified against disappointment, she at last turned the key, pulled
+the flap and threw the bag wide open.
+
+The first look brought a glimpse of a bit of negligee. Nothing so
+exciting in this.
+
+"Well anyway," sighed Florence, "it--wasn't a man's bag. It could not
+have belonged to that--that man."
+
+"No," said Meg, "it couldn't."
+
+One by one Florence removed the few articles of clothing that had been
+packed in the bag. These were of fine texture and well made. But beneath
+these was something to bring an exclamation to her lips.
+
+Putting out her hand, she lifted to view a roll of silk cloth, of royal
+blue, and of such thinness and fineness as she had seldom seen in all her
+life.
+
+"Yards and yards of it," she breathed, throwing it before her in bright,
+billowy waves.
+
+"And look!" cried Meg. "Batik!"
+
+It was true; beneath the silk was a bolt of batik. This Meg took to the
+light and examined it with great care.
+
+"It's genuine," she whispered at last. "Not the sham stuff that is made
+in American factories, but the kind that dark faced women dye with great
+skill and much labor, dipping again and again in colors such as we know
+nothing of."
+
+Florence examined the cloth, then spread it over the back of a chair.
+Then she sat down. There was a puzzled look on her face.
+
+"It's very beautiful," she mused. "One could not hope to buy a more
+perfect present, sight unseen, but I'm wondering why a man should be
+willing to trace me down at infinite pains and then follow me in the face
+of danger and in the teeth of a storm for the sake of getting possession
+of two rolls of cloth. That seems strange."
+
+"Does seem odd," said Meg. "But wait! Here's something else." She drew
+two long pasteboard tubes from the bottom of the bag.
+
+"What do you suppose?" whispered Florence. Inserting one finger in the
+first tube she twisted it about, then began drawing it out. A roll of
+papers appeared.
+
+"Papers," she whispered. "Probably important papers; deeds, stocks and
+bonds, perhaps."
+
+Imagine her surprise when, having drawn the papers out and partly
+unrolled them, she found them to be pictures.
+
+"Pictures!" she exclaimed in disgust. "And only printed pictures at
+that."
+
+"But such wonderful pictures!" exclaimed Meg, holding one out to view.
+
+It was indeed a wonderful picture, one of those vague, misty things that
+came out of the great war. This one was of a smoke clouded cannon in the
+foreground, belching black smoke and fire, and in the midst of the smoke,
+forming herself out of it, a most beautiful black-haired woman, her eyes
+burning, her hands clawing, leaping straight at the enemy.
+
+"It _is_ a wonderful picture," said Florence when they had gazed at it in
+silence for a time. "But after all, it is only a print, and can't be
+worth much. I still don't see----"
+
+"Tell you what," Meg broke in, "let's unroll them all and weight them
+down on the floor with books so we can have a good look."
+
+"Good idea," said Florence, beginning to unroll one.
+
+It was truly a remarkable collection of pictures which at length carpeted
+the floor. War pictures, all of them, and all displaying that strong
+spiritual interpretation which was so common in pictures of those times.
+A French airplane falling in flames and beneath it an angel waiting to
+bear away the soul of the brave aviator; the American flag drifting in
+the clouds and seen from afar by a French soldier in the trenches; such
+were the themes.
+
+"Don't you think they're grand?" said Meg.
+
+"Yes," Florence responded, "but after all, they are only prints of the
+work of some great master. 'Veny LeCarte'" she read at the bottom of one.
+"I believe, yes, they're all by the same man."
+
+For some time they sat there in silence. They were at last about to rise
+when there came a light rap at their door.
+
+"Let me in," came from outside. "I saw the light in the room as I was
+passing and thought I'd come up to say 'Good morning and Merry
+Christmas.'" It was Lucile.
+
+"Merry Christmas yourself," exclaimed Florence, throwing wide the door.
+"Come in."
+
+"This is Meg, Lucile; and Meg, that's Lucile," she smiled.
+
+"But Florence, where in the world did you get those marvelous etchings?"
+exclaimed Lucile after she shook hands with Meg. "And why do you carpet
+your floor with them? I nearly stepped on one."
+
+"Etch--etchings!" stammered Florence. "They're mine--at least I bought
+them."
+
+"Bought them! You? You bought them!" Lucile stared incredulous. Then,
+bending over, she read the name at the bottom of one. After that her eyes
+roved from picture to picture.
+
+"Veny LeCarte," she murmured as if in a dream. "And she says she bought
+them!" She dropped weakly into a chair.
+
+"Florence," she said at last, "do you know who Veny LeCarte was?"
+
+"N-o."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. He was one of the most famous artists of France. He
+made etchings of the war. No one could surpass him. And unlike his fellow
+artists, who allowed a hundred copies to be made from each plate, he
+allowed but twenty. Then the plates were destroyed. He made these
+pictures. You have nearly all of them. And then he went away to the war,
+and was killed.
+
+"Since that time his etchings have been much prized and have brought
+fabulous prices. Oh, Florence, tell me how you got them! Surely, surely
+you didn't buy them!"
+
+"I did," said Florence unsteadily, hardly knowing whether to laugh or
+cry, "but I bought them in a strange way. I'll tell you about it." Then
+she told Lucile the whole story.
+
+"And those pictures," she said at the end, "are the reason that man
+dogged my footsteps. It had not been his bag. He had not owned the
+pictures, but some way he had learned that the pictures were in this bag.
+He had meant to buy the bag, but arrived too late."
+
+The hour was late. What did that matter? To-morrow was Christmas.
+Florence set about brewing some cocoa, and over the cups the girls
+engaged in such a talk fest as they had not enjoyed for months.
+Everything that had happened to Lucile during those eventful weeks, from
+the first night to the last, had to be told. The wonderful cape, with its
+white fox collar, must be displayed. The gold coins must be jingled and
+jangled. Meg's story must be told all over again.
+
+After that, problems yet unsolved must be discussed. Was the hawk-eyed
+man who had attempted to gain possession of Florence's bag the same one
+who had attempted to kidnap Cordie?
+
+"That question," said Lucile to Florence, "can only be settled by you
+going down to the police station and looking at him."
+
+"In that case, it will never be answered," said Florence, with a shudder.
+
+Would a romance spring up between the rich girl Cordie and the gallant
+young policeman, Patrick O'Hara? Who could tell? So the conversation
+rambled on until early morning. At last Lucile hurried away and Meg and
+Florence prepared for three winks.
+
+As Florence, with Meg by her side, was drifting off to sleep, she heard
+Meg say:
+
+"To-morrow I must go back to the ship."
+
+"Indeed you'll not," she roused up to protest. "You'll stay right here
+to-morrow and every day. And you're going to school, too. I need you to
+guard all my--my treasure."
+
+How the pictures came to be in the bag which Florence had purchased at
+the sale, will probably always remain a secret. Perhaps the one who left
+the bag did not realize the value of the etchings. Who knows what may
+have been the reason? But they were truly valuable, and Florence learned
+this for certain on the following Monday. Later she sold them to a dealer
+for a good round sum. This money went far, not only to smooth the road to
+her own education, but to enable her to give Meg many a lift along the
+way.
+
+
+
+
+                         The Roy J. Snell Books
+
+
+Mr. Snell is a versatile writer who knows how to write stories that will
+please boys and girls. He has traveled widely, visited many
+out-of-the-way corners of the earth, and being a keen observer has found
+material for many thrilling stories. His stories are full of adventure
+and mystery, yet in the weaving of the story there are little threads
+upon which are hung lessons in loyalty, honesty, patriotism and right
+living.
+
+Mr. Snell has created a wide audience among the younger readers of
+America. Boy or girl, you are sure to find a Snell book to your liking.
+His works cover a wide and interesting scope.
+
+Here are the titles of the Snell Books:
+
+
+                       _Mystery Stories for Boys_
+
+  1. Triple Spies
+  2. Lost in the Air
+  3. Panther Eye
+  4. The Crimson Flash
+  5. White Fire
+  6. The Black Schooner
+  7. The Hidden Trail
+  8. The Firebug
+  9. The Red Lure
+  10. Forbidden Cargoes
+  11. Johnny Longbow
+  12. The Rope of Gold
+  13. The Arrow of Fire
+  14. The Gray Shadow
+  15. Riddle of the Storm
+  16. The Galloping Ghost
+  17. Whispers at Dawn; or, The Eye
+  18. Mystery Wings
+  19. Red Dynamite
+  20. The Seal of Secrecy
+  21. The Shadow Passes
+  22. Sign of the Green Arrow
+
+
+                     _The Radio-Phone Boys' Series_
+
+  1. Curlie Carson Listens In
+  2. On the Yukon Trail
+  3. The Desert Patrol
+  4. The Seagoing Tank
+  5. The Flying Sub
+  6. Dark Treasure
+  7. Whispering Isles
+  8. Invisible Wall
+
+
+                     _Adventure Stories for Girls_
+
+  1. The Blue Envelope
+  2. The Cruise of the O'Moo
+  3. The Secret Mark
+  4. The Purple Flame
+  5. The Crimson Thread
+  6. The Silent Alarm
+  7. The Thirteenth Ring
+  8. Witches Cove
+  9. The Gypsy Shawl
+  10. Green Eyes
+  11. The Golden Circle
+  12. The Magic Curtain
+  13. Hour of Enchantment
+  14. The Phantom Violin
+  15. Gypsy Flight
+  16. The Crystal Ball
+  17. A Ticket to Adventure
+  18. The Third Warning
+
+
+
+
+                            * * * * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
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