Alone in the conservatory, Rusty quickly forgot about the ribbon and began nosing about the palms.  At last he came to the pot in which the torpedo model had been buried in the soft earth by the thief the night it had been stolen from the fountain.

Quickly Elaine recalled herself and, seeing the ribbon in her hand and Rusty gone, called him.  There was no answer, and she excused herself, for it was against the rules for Rusty to wander about.

In his haste the thief had left just a corner of the handkerchief sticking out of the dirt.  What none of us had noticed, Rusty’s keen eyes and nose discovered and his instinct told him to dig for it.  In a moment he uncovered the torpedo and handkerchief and sniffed.

Just then he heard his mistress calling him.  Rusty had been whipped for digging in the conservatory and now, with his tail between his legs, he seized the torpedo in his mouth and bolted for the door of the drawing-room, for he had heard voices in the library.  As he did so he dropped the handkerchief and the little propeller, loosened by his teeth, fell off.

Elaine entered the conservatory, still calling.  Rusty was not there.  He had reached the stairs, scurrying up to the attic, still holding the torpedo model in his mouth.  He pushed open the attic door and ran in.  Rusty’s last refuge in time of trouble was back of a number of trunks, among which were two of almost the same size and appearance.  Behind one of them, he had hidden a miscellaneous collection of bones, pieces of biscuit and things dear to his heart.  He dropped the torpedo among these treasures.

Del Mar, meanwhile, had followed Elaine through the hall and into the conservatory.  As he entered he could see her stooping down to look through the palms for Rusty.  She straightened up and went on out.

Del Mar followed.  Beside the palm pot where Rusty had found the torpedo, he happened to see the old handkerchief soiled with dirt.  Near-by lay the little propeller.  He picked them up.

“She has found it!” he exclaimed in wonder, following Elaine.

By this time Rusty had responded to Elaine’s calls and came tearing down-stairs again.

“Naughty Rusty,” chided Elaine, tying the ribbon on him.

“So—­you have found him at last?” remarked Del Mar looking quickly at Elaine to see if she would get a double meaning.

“Yes.  He’s had a fine time running away,” she replied.

Del Mar was scarcely able to conceal his suspicion of her.  Was she a clever actress, hiding her discovery, he wondered?

. . . . . . .

Outside, on the lawn, Del Mar’s men had been looking about, but had discovered nothing.  They paused a moment to speak.

“Look out!” whispered one of them.  “There’s some one coming.”