On the morning of her first day at Dr. Hartmann's sanatorium, Grace Duvall rose early, and dressed herself for a walk. She was determined, if possible, to communicate the results of her adventure the night before to the French police in Brussels, and realizing that to do so by the only means in her power, namely, the young man who drove the delivery wagon, might involve considerable risk of discovery, she dressed herself as simply as possible, in a dark-gray suit and white shirtwaist.

She had her breakfast in her room, and then told the nurse that she intended to take a walk in the grounds. During breakfast she complained of the bread which was served her—and informed the maid that in her country people ate hot bread at breakfast. The woman seemed surprised. "Hot bread!" she exclaimed. "Mon Dieu! Who ever heard of such a thing."

"If you bake your bread here in the house," Grace went on, "you could easily serve hot bread or rolls to me."

"Impossible, mademoiselle. All our bread comes from a bakery in the city. A young man brings it each morning at ten o'clock."

Grace laughed inwardly. This was just the information for which she was seeking. It was then a little after nine. She felt tired and worn from her almost sleepless night, and her appearance showed it. When she told the nurse that she intended to take a stroll, and get some air, the latter nodded. "Dr. Hartmann has recommended it," she said. "He is a great believer in the value of fresh air." The woman made no reference to the events of the night before, nor did Grace. She knew that sleep walkers were not supposed to remember anything that occurred during their attacks of somnambulism.

On the way out she met Dr. Hartmann, returning from his after-breakfast constitutional. He was just entering his office. "Good morning, Miss Ellicott," he said, pleasantly. "May I ask you to step inside a moment? There are a few questions I should like to ask you."

She obeyed, much against her will. It was nearly half-past nine, she knew, and she must not miss the delivery man, if she was to send her message to Brussels. She heard the doctor saying that he would detain her but a few moments.

His first question sent the color to her cheeks, and she hesitated before answering it, realizing that it was a trap. "Do you feel any the worse, miss, from the experiences of last night?" he inquired.

For a moment she was about to say "no," but caught herself in time. "What experiences?" she asked, innocently enough. "Did I have an attack?"

She fancied that the doctor appeared relieved. He smiled as he replied. "You wandered about a little. The nurse must have been negligent. I have reprimanded her. You might readily have a serious accident, if left to yourself."

Grace looked at him with a smile which scarcely concealed her agitation. "I hope I caused no trouble," she said. "It is a frightful affliction. I trust you will be able to do something for me."

"Don't worry, my dear young lady. We shall cure you beyond a doubt. I think, however, that it will be necessary to employ hypnosis. All cases such as yours respond most readily to hypnotic suggestion. However, I shall observe your case for a while longer, before making a decision. You are going out for a walk, I see."

"Yes. I love the air." She rose with a secret fear of the man in her heart. If he should hypnotize her, what was there to prevent his learning everything. She determined to avoid this method of treatment at all costs, yet could not see how to do so without arousing his suspicions. "Good-morning," she said, hastily, as she left the room.

The walk to the entrance gate in the fresh autumn air served to revive her spirits wonderfully. Her original intention had been to stroll down the avenue which fronted the house, in the hope of meeting the delivery wagon on the way. In a moment the futility of this plan became apparent. She did not know from which direction the wagon would appear, nor would she be able to recognize it, even should she be lucky enough to meet it. She paused at the gate, uncertain, then began to walk along a path which led among the trees and shrubbery, with one eye all the while upon the gateway at the entrance. Once or twice vehicles passing along the road outside startled her into sudden action; she went toward the gate only to find that they had passed on. The tenseness of the situation began to get on her nerves; in her fear she was certain that she was being watched from the house, or by the gardener in the distance who was engaged in taking the leaves from the graveled walks. She had almost given up in despair when she heard the rumble of an approaching cart, and saw a smart little wagon driven by a young man in a blue jacket with large brass buttons, enter the gate.

She went quickly toward the roadway, pretending an interest in the horse. The young man saw her approaching, and looked at her shrewdly. She gave a slight nod, and continued to approach him. All of a sudden he threw down the reins, gave an exclamation, and jumping from the wagon, began to inspect the horse's feet with great deliberateness and care.

Grace went up to the horse, and began patting its nose. "Poor fellow," she said, consolingly, in English, looking all the while at the young man's face.

"Are you Miss Ellicott?" he said suddenly in rather halting English, without turning his head.

"Yes." Her reply was quick, eager. "Dr. Hartmann is expecting a messenger from London with the stolen snuff box to-day or to-morrow. I heard them talking about it, last night. The messenger is a stranger to him. He does not suspect that I am watching him."

The boy nodded gravely. "You are instructed to remain near the front of the house, or in the reception-room inside, as much as possible, during the day. The man from London is expected this morning. He may be here at any moment. Keep your eyes open." He began to whistle merrily, pretended to remove a stone from one of the horse's shoes, sprang back into the wagon and drove off to the house, without paying any further attention to her.

Grace walked slowly up the driveway, and finding a bench near a bed of geraniums, sat down and pretended to read a book which she had brought with her. After a time, the delivery wagon returned, but the boy did not even glance at her as he passed out. She noticed, however, that he was driving rapidly and appeared to be in a great hurry.

She sat on the bench for over an hour, wondering what would be the next development in this mysterious affair. She could not shake off the idea that she would soon see Richard, in spite of the fact that she had no definite reasons upon which to base her hopes. One thing, however, seemed certain. If the man with the stolen snuff box had arrived in Brussels, it clearly meant that Richard had failed to capture him in London, and it seemed not unreasonable to suppose that he would be following him.

She thought about the matter so much that it interfered with her attempts to read the book. After a while she closed it, and sat watching the distant gardener as he ceaselessly raked the gravel paths. Everything seemed so quiet, so full of peace—everything, in fact, but her own thoughts. Somehow it seemed impossible to believe that underneath all the beauty of this clear autumn day lay plotting, and tragedy, and even death.

It was close to noon, when she ceased her musings, and rising, went toward the house. Sitting so long in the open air had made her a bit chilly. She determined to seek the grateful warmth of the reception-room. As she mounted the steps of the house she heard sounds of a cab being driven rapidly along the main street, and a sudden intuition warned her that something of an unusual nature was about to happen. She glanced back, as the servant opened the door in response to her ring, and was not surprised to see that the vehicle had entered the grounds, and was rapidly approaching the house.

Her hasty glance showed her that it contained but a single occupant, a man, and in spite of the distance, she fancied that she detected something familiar about the poise of his head and shoulders. The thought was but momentary—she stepped at once into the reception-room at the right, sat down by the fire, and opening her book, pretended to be deeply absorbed in its contents. In reality she was observing narrowly the maid in the hallway, who stood at the open door, waiting to admit the man who was driving up in the cab.