“Oh, Nathalie, what do you think? They have sent for a detective up at the hotel!” The speaker was Nita, who, with her friend, was sitting on the veranda of Seven Pillars, a few afternoons subsequent to Nathalie’s sending her letter to Helen.

“A detective?” echoed Nathalie, looking at Nita in surprise. “What for?”

“Why, about those robberies. I told you some time ago how the guests were missing jewelry and other small articles of value. It has been kept very quiet, but mother heard this morning that the manager is getting worried as to who is the thief, and has sent for a secret-service man to come up and ferret out the mystery. But, Blue Robin,” she added, with a more serious expression, “those school friends of yours are not going to take any more French lessons.”

“And pray, why not?” demanded Nathalie. Then she ejaculated, “Dear me, what have we done to offend them now?” “I don’t know. But, Nathalie, did you notice the night of the Liberty Tea at the hotel, how they sat in a corner, whispering most of the time? I had an uncanny feeling that they were making unkind remarks about us, not that I care, for I don’t like them anyway,” added Nita disgustedly.

“I’m sorry,” said Nathalie regretfully, “for I hate to have Mr. de Brie lose any pupils. I imagine they were angry at the last Liberty Cheer, for, you remember, when they joined us we all grew very quiet. Not that any one meant to be rude, but they are so snobby that they cast a cloud over one’s fun.”

“Well, I guess Philip can get along without them,” returned Nita confidently. “Did you notice that he was quite the lion the other evening? He cast the Count quite into the shade, for every one fell in love with him.”

“Yes, he can be very charming,” acquiesced Nathalie, “for he is so distinguished-looking in his uniform of a British lieutenant. Mother says that in his manners he combines the fineness of an American gentleman with the courtesy and charm of a Frenchman. I am sorry about his arm, for the doctor says he will always have to carry it stiffly.

“But, Nita,” continued Nathalie, “I just adore that big doctor friend of yours. What do you think? I was worrying about his calling so many times on Philip, for I was afraid that my ‘drop in the bucket’ would not be enough to pay the bill, and of course Philip wouldn’t have enough from his earnings to pay it. Finally I wrote the doctor to send his bill to me. And oh, Nita, he wrote me a love of a letter, in which he said that he never charged girls anything. And as for Mr. de Brie, he considered it his great privilege to be allowed to give his services to a man who had given the best of himself to give liberty to the world. Oh, I think he is just the dearest old thing!” ended the girl enthusiastically.

“Oh, I knew he would do that,” answered Nita, with a wise little smile, “for he has the best heart in the world.”

“But listen,” went on her companion earnestly. “Janet told Philip about it, excusing herself by saying that he was worrying over the bill, and that she wanted to relieve his mind.”

“Of course she did,” giggled Nita, “for one can see with half an eye what is going on in that direction for it is a clear case of ‘spoons,’ all right.”

“Do you really think so?” cried Nathalie with sudden animation. “Why, I suggested something of that kind to mother, and she said I was a silly. Well, they were made for one another. Why, Philip just adores the ground she walks on, and as for Janet, it’s just a guessing game as to how she feels. But, to go on with my tale,” continued the girl. “As soon as Philip heard what Janet had to tell, he came straight to me, and, with a voice that fairly shook with emotion, said that my kindness to him would be one of the unforgettable things in his life. Of course I had to make light of the matter, for I saw the poor fellow was terribly affected over it. Oh, I do hope things will brighten for him this fall, for he is going to the city, to make an attempt to get some pupils to tutor until his health is better. You know,” she added, dropping her voice, “I think there must have been some mystery about his grandmother, or his family, for although he loves to come down here and be one of us,—he says it is so homey with us,—he never says a word about her or his family.”

Nita had been reading to Miss Whipple, and Nathalie had been tying up sweet peas, one morning a few days after Nita’s news about the detective, and the two girls were on their homeward way, when Nathalie suddenly exclaimed with a little burst of laughter, “Oh, Nita, I have something funny to tell you.”

“Well, tell it to me then,” rejoined her companion somewhat dolefully, “for although I have something to tell you, alas, it is anything but funny.”

“Oh, is it about Philip?” cried Nathalie, a sudden premonition of evil darkening the golden lights of her eyes. “Or are any more of the girls going to give up taking French lessons?”

“It is worse than that,” answered Nita, with such grave import in her voice that Nathalie stared at her with big eyes as she cried, “Oh, Nita! do hurry and tell me. Have those girls—”

“Yes, those girls, your friends—”

“Please don’t call them my friends,” pleaded poor Nathalie tremulously, “for they are anything but friends.”

“So it seems,” nodded Nita dryly, “for they have told—well, just about every one in the house—that they suspect that Mr. de Brie is the thief who has been robbing the hotel. You know he has been giving them private lessons. Nelda declares that she believes Philip took her watch,—it was lying on the table when she left the room to answer a ’phone call from the office. Justine was out riding with the Count. When Nelda returned the watch was gone. Five other girls came to me this morning and told me that they were not going to take any more lessons.

“These girls have circulated all over the house,” continued Nita gloomily, “that Philip is an impostor; that you picked him up without knowing anything about him and that he is not a British soldier at all. O dear! how hateful people can act! And the clerk of the hotel—Well, he informed me this morning that the Profile House had sent word that they did not care to have Philip speak to their guests, as people were tired of hearing about the war.”

“Nita, this is terrible! Oh, I know Philip is not an impostor,” protested Nathalie with a dismayed face. “Why, Nita, he showed me a letter written to him by a soldier at the front, and he called him Lieutenant de Brie. And where could he have gotten his uniform if he is an impostor? Oh, I just believe those horrid, hateful girls have made the whole thing up.” Nathalie stopped, suddenly remembering that she was not speaking kindly, and not living up to her motto. She gave a long sigh, and then asked, “But, Nita, have you heard anything more about the detective coming up from the city?”

“Yes. Oh! there he is now, coming down the walk,” cried Nita, lowering her voice. Then she added, with a laugh, “Talk of the angels and you’ll hear the flutter of their wings.”

“Well, he doesn’t look much like an angel,” answered Nathalie, her eyes lighting humorously, as she watched a stout, red-faced man with a sandy moustache coming down the path towards them.

As the gentleman under discussion approached the girls he lifted his hat courteously, as he said, “I beg your pardon, but could you tell me how I can reach the top of Garnet? I understand that there are several trails up the mountain, but could you tell me which one would be the best one to ascend?”

The girls made no reply for a moment, assailed by the miserable fear that the man was going up the mountain to trail Philip. Then Nathalie, with an effort, turned and pointed down the road, explaining in a few words that one of the trails started in near the Grand View road.

As the man thanked her and walked slowly on, Nathalie drew a deep breath, while a troubled light shone in Nita’s eyes, as she cried, “Oh, do you suppose he is going to arrest Philip?” She spoke in a half-whisper.

“Arrest Philip? Why, the idea of such a thing! No, of course not,” Nathalie answered determinedly, as if she was not going to allow herself to become frightened. “Philip has committed no crime. That man can’t arrest him unless he has some evidence, and where is he going to get it?”

Nita made no reply, and the two girls, depressed by the unpleasant occurrence, and the vague fear that trouble was brewing for their friend, sat down in one of the summer-houses near the board-walk. Here they sat in silence for a few moments, and then Nathalie, as if determined to throw off the depression that assailed her, cried, “Oh, Nita, I have not told you the funny thing.”

“Well, tell it to me, then; for I think it will take something real comical to get me out of the blues.”

“It is about Tony,” explained Nathalie. “You know the child is obsessed with the desire to have me find the mystery thing. Well, the other day Danny came running to tell me that Tony was rolling on the floor with the colic. I was alarmed, for I immediately thought he had been eating green apples, the way Sheila did the other day, and mother had to poultice her with mustard.

“I flew to his room and there was the little fellow moaning and squirming about, apparently in great pain. When he saw me he immediately begged me to put a mustard plaster on his stomach. I was surprised, for generally children will suffer quite a little before they will have one on. I found some old linen,—mother was out,—hurried down to the kitchen closet, and got the mustard-box.

“But when I opened it, imbedded in the yellow, powdery stuff, was something that glittered strangely. I shook the box, and out rolled a little gold coin. I carefully examined it, and immediately saw that it was an ancient Roman coin, for although one side was so blurred and worn with age that I could not decipher anything on it, the other side bore the name and head of CÆsar within a circle of fine gold beading.

“Something immediately told me that the coin belonged to Tony, and that he had placed it there so I would find it, for, not long ago he lost something from his vest-pocket,—he keeps all of his treasures sewed up in that old vest. Danny had helped him look for it,—it had slipped out of a hole,—and after it had been found he came and told me about it, describing it as a little round piece of gold, the kind that you see, he said, up in the museum at Central Park. “I made the plaster and carried it, with the coin, up to Tony, but before I put on the poultice I showed him the gold piece and asked if it was not his. But the little chap, with a bland and innocent expression, vowed that he had never seen it. No amount of coaxing or persuasion could make him confess to the truth. You know that is the great trouble I have with Tony, he will tell teeny little stories.” Nathalie sighed dolefully.

“Although I was sure that he didn’t have any colic, and that the whole thing was just a trick to get me to look in the mustard-box to find the coin, I put the plaster on, and made him stay in bed, thinking that when it got to burning that he would ’fess up.’ But he didn’t, and although he howled and writhed with the sting of it,—while I was reading him a lecture on the sin of lying,—I told the story of Ananias and Sapphira,—he stuck it out. Then, finally, my conscience wouldn’t let me torture the boy any longer, and I took the plaster off. That night while he was asleep I found his old vest, and after putting the coin in the pocket, sewed it up.”

After the girls had laughed over the incident, Nathalie started homeward, her mind full of dismal forebodings in regard to Philip. “Oh, I wish I could prove in some way that he is not an impostor. But suppose he should be?” The girl came to a sudden halt. Then, with her eyes full of a strange bright light, she went on. No, she just knew that Philip was good and true.

“But I must do something,” she half moaned. “For how dreadfully he will feel if he thinks that people believe him a thief; and he will soon know something is wrong, when all the girls stop taking lessons. But Nita and I will have to pretend that the season is drawing to a close,—as it is. But, O dear! he does need the money so much. And Janet,—how it will hurt her, for I am sure she cares—” the girl halted at the thought, for it seemed too sacred a thing even to whisper to herself. Then she was busy again, trying to think how she could prove that her friend was what he claimed to be.

As she unconsciously uttered her thoughts aloud, by some mysterious process of thought, or strange correlation between mind and matter, before her mental vision flashed the picture of a dark wood, lighted by gleams of moonlight that filtered through the tall tree-tops. In the foreground of a forest-gloomed retreat, in front of a high rock, a man was digging in the ground, plainly seen by the yellow flickerings from a burning torch that had been stuck upright in the ground, a few feet away.

Although the girl reasoned and tried to convince herself that there was no possible connection between that man and the thief at the hotel, she could not drive the impression from her mind. On going home she questioned Jean, and found that he, too, still vividly remembered the incident.

That night Nathalie could not sleep, for she was haunted by the picture of the man in the woods, although she hurled every name she could think of at herself for being so foolish. The next night again found her sleepless, but when morning dawned, as if pursued and driven by the haunting vision, she called the boys together, and stated the circumstances to them. She did not tell her mother, as she would say that she was losing her reason, and, well, she was determined to find out—something.

Early the following morning, before any one had gone through the woods, Nathalie and the boys met Nita at the Red Trail; she had been taken into their confidence, and accordingly was weirdly and thrillingly excited. They soon reached the seat-tree, and then, after locating the big rock, they all began to dig.

They had dug for almost an hour, by Nita’s wristwatch, and then, feeling tired, and on the verge of absolute despair, were talking about giving the whole thing up, when all at once Jean’s little terrier began to scratch in the ground on one side of the rock, and partly under it. Jean gave a queer little cry as he watched Tige, and the next moment had driven the dog away, and had begun to dig as furiously as he could with his one hand, in the place where the dog had been scratching up the earth. Nathalie watched him listlessly, for she had abandoned all hope, and felt utterly weary, too, after her two sleepless nights. Suddenly Jean gave a loud shout, and then a moment later they had all rushed to his side, and presently were boring down into the earth under the rock as quickly as they could, to unearth in a few moments a gold chain. Nita gave a loud scream as she snatched it from Danny, for she immediately recognized it as belonging to an old lady at the hotel, who had been bemoaning its loss. A few moments’ digging, and then, with pale faces, in repressed excitement, they replaced the chain in the hole, covered it with dirt, so as to make it appear that the spot had not been disturbed, and then they started home, stopping to rest on the stone ledge of Liberty Fort, while discussing their discovery. It was enough to excite any one, and might mean a great deal to Philip.

Nita was quite insistent at first that they should immediately tell the manager of the hotel what they had seen. But Nathalie demurred, convinced, on second thought, that if the jewelry was found hidden up in the woods, because Philip lived up on the mountain, every one would say that that was sure proof that he was the thief. “No,” declared the girl determinedly, “we can’t do that; but we will have to come up here and watch for the man so we can identify him.” This plan was finally decided upon, and the little party, seething with suppressed excitement under the weight of their momentous secret, returned home.

That night Nathalie, Danny, and Jean stole up the trail. Strange to say, it was again a moonlight night, the same as a month ago, when the man had been seen by Nathalie and Jean. After finding the seat-tree they all sat down and waited, alternately dozing and waking, but although they remained until the first streaks of gray dawn appeared, nothing happened.

The following night, Jean—Nathalie had put the boy to bed for the day, letting her mother think that he had one of his headaches to which he was subject—and Tony accompanied the girl to the tree. But alas, for the second time nothing came to pass. Nathalie began to be discouraged. Fortunately it rained that night, and, as they could not venture out, they all had a good night’s rest.

The fourth night again found the girl with the boys at her post, oppressed and miserable, for by this time she began to fear that the man in the woods was a snare and a delusion,—something she had dreamed, or else he had gone. But why did he leave that jewelry behind?—for the children had discovered that there were other pieces hidden in that hole, or very near it.

All at once—Nathalie had fallen quite sound asleep—Jean gave her a pinch; he was snuggling up against her, seated on her lap. The girl opened her eyes sleepily, rubbed them drowsily, and then stretched them wide, caught by the gleam of a light over by the rock. Yes, the man was there! Her heart leaped excitedly, for he was digging under the rock, just where they had found the jewelry!

With stilled breath, the three figures, hidden by the tree, watched him, Nathalie’s mind keeping up an incessant query as to how she could steal around behind the rock to get a view of his face. Ah, that queer shaking of the head! Who was it that she had seen who had that peculiar nervous affliction? And then, in a sudden revelation, she knew! It was the man who had stared at her so rudely in the post-office, the man who had repaired her automobile. Why, it was the man known as the Count!