“I’m positive he has.”

“And Louise can’t be safe while she’s a prisoner, and in the hands of strangers.  I want the girl home!  Then I’ll know she’s safe.”

“I want her home, too, sir.  But all your men are unable to find her, it seems.  They can’t even discover in what direction she was taken, or how.  The brown limousine seems to be no due at all.”

“Of course not.  There are a thousand brown limousines in New York.”

“Do you imagine she’s still somewhere in the city, sir?” enquired Arthur.

“That’s my theory,” replied Uncle John.  “She must be somewhere in the city.  You see it would be almost impossible to get her out of town without discovery.  But I’ll admit this detective force is the finest aggregation of incompetents I’ve ever known—­and I don’t believe your precious Fogerty is any better, either.”

Of course Beth and Patsy had to be told of their cousin’s disappearance as soon as the first endeavor to trace her proved a failure.  Patsy went at once to Mrs. Merrick and devoted herself to comforting the poor woman as well as she could.

Beth frowned at the news and then sat down to carefully think out the problem.  In an hour she had logically concluded that Diana Von Taer was the proper person to appeal to.  If anyone knew where Louise was, it was Diana.  That same afternoon she drove to the Von Taer residence and demanded an interview.

Diana was at that moment in a highly nervous state.  She had at times during her career been calculating and unscrupulous, but never before had she deserved the accusation of being malicious and wicked.  She had come to reproach herself bitterly for having weakly connived at the desperate act of Charlie Mershone, and her good sense assured her the result would be disastrous to all concerned in it.  Contempt for herself and contempt for her cousin mingled with well-defined fears for her cherished reputation, and so it was that Miss Von Taer had almost decided to telephone Madame Cerise and order her to escort Louise Merrick to her own home when Beth’s card came up with a curt demand for a personal interview.

The natures of these two girls had never harmonized in the slightest degree.  Beth’s presence nerved Diana to a spirit of antagonism that quickly destroyed her repentant mood.  As she confronted her visitor her demeanor was cold and suspicious.  There was a challenge and an accusation in Beth’s eyes that conveyed a distinct warning, which Miss Von Taer quickly noted and angrily resented—­perhaps because she knew it was deserved.

It would have been easy to tell Beth De Graf where her cousin Louise was, and at the same time to assure her that Diana was blameless in the affair; but she could not endure to give her antagonist this satisfaction.

Beth began the interview by saying:  “What have you done with Louise Merrick?” That was, of course, equal to a declaration of war.