She was shaken by a paroxysm of sobs.  Mr. Wynne led her to a chair, and she dropped into it wearily, with her face in her hands.

“Nothing can have happened, Doris,” he repeated gently.  “I sent a message out there in duplicate only a few minutes ago.  In a couple of hours, now, we shall be getting an answer.  Now, don’t begin to cry,” he added helplessly.

“And if you don’t get an answer?” she insisted.

“I shall get an answer,” he declared positively.  There was a long pause.  “And when I get that answer, Doris,” he resumed, again becoming very grave, “you will see how unwise, how dangerous even, it was for you to come here this way.  I know it’s hard, dear,” he supplemented apologetically, “but it was only for the week, you know; and now I don’t see how you can go away from here again.”

“Go away?” she repeated wonderingly.  “Why shouldn’t I go away?  I was very careful to veil myself when I came—­no one saw me enter, I am sure.  Why can’t I go away again?”

Mr. Wynne paced the length of the room twice, with troubled brow.

“You don’t understand, dear,” he said quietly, as he paused before her.  “From the moment I left Mr. Latham’s office last Thursday I have been under constant surveillance.  I’m followed wherever I go—­ to my office, to luncheon, to the theater, everywhere; and day and night, day and night, there are two men watching this house, and two other men watching at my office.  They tamper with my correspondence, trace my telephone calls, question my servants, quiz my clerks.  You don’t understand, dear,” he said again.

“But why should they do all this?” she asked curiously.  “Why should they—­”

“I had expected it all, of course,” he interrupted, “and it doesn’t disturb me in the least.  I planned for months to anticipate every emergency; I know every detective who is watching me by name and by sight; and all my plans have gone perfectly until now.  This is why it was necessary for me to keep away from out there as it was for you to keep away from here; why we could not afford to take chances by an interchange of letters or by telephone calls.  When I left you in the cab I knew you would get away safely, because they did not know you were there, in the first place; and then it was the beginning of the chase and I forced them to center their attention on me.  But now it different.  Come here to the window a minute.”

He led her across the room unresistingly.  On the opposite side of the street, staring at the house, was a man.

“That man is a private detective,” Mr. Wynne informed her.  “His name is Sutton, and he is only one of thirty or forty whose sole business in life, right now, is to watch me, to keep track of and follow any person who comes here.  He saw you enter, and you couldn’t escape him going out.  There’s another on the roof of the house next door.  His name is Claflin.  These men, or others from the same agency, are here all the time.  There are two more at my office downtown; still others are searching customs records, examining the books of the express companies, probing into my private affairs.  And they’re all in the employ of the men with whom I am dealing.  Do you understand now?”