As she reached the next corner a street car came rushing along, halted a brief moment and proceeded on its way.  In that moment Mary Louise had stepped aboard and as she entered the closed section and sank into a seat she breathed a sigh of relief.  The man at the bakery window had not followed her.  The car made one or two more stops, turned a corner and stopped again.  This time the little man with the fat nose deliberately swung himself to the rear platform, paid his fare and remained there.  He didn’t look at Mary Louise at all, but she looked at him and her expression was one of mingled horror and fear.

A mile farther on the car reached the end of its line and the conductor reversed the trolley-pole and prepared for the return journey.  Mary Louise kept her seat.  The detective watched the motorman and conductor with an assumption of stupid interest and retained his place on the platform.

On the way back to the business section of Dorfield, Mary Louise considered what to do next.  She was very young and inexperienced; she was also, at this moment, very weary and despondent.  It was clearly evident that she could not escape this man, whose persistence impressed her with the imminent danger that threatened her grandfather if she went to the home of the Conants—­the one thing she positively must not do.  Since her arrival was wholly unexpected by her friends, with whom she could not communicate, she now found herself a forlorn wanderer, without money or shelter.

When the car stopped at Main Street she got off and walked slowly along the brilliantly lighted thoroughfare, feeling more safe among the moving throngs of people.  Presently she came to a well-remembered corner where the principal hotel stood on one side and the First National Bank on the other.  She now knew where she was and could find the direct route to the Conants, had she dared go there.  To gain time for thought the girl stepped into the doorway of the bank, which was closed for the day, thus avoiding being jostled by pedestrians.  She set down her suit case, leaned against the door-frame and tried to determine her wisest course of action.

She was hungry, tired, frightened, and the combination of sensations made her turn faint.  With a white face and despair in her heart she leaned heavily back and closed her eyes.

“Pardon me,” said a soft voice, and with a nervous start she opened her eyes to find the little fat-nosed man confronting her.  He had removed his hat and was looking straight into her face—­for the first time, she imagined—­and now she noticed that his gray eyes were not at all unkindly.

“What do you want?” she asked sharply, with an involuntary shudder.

“I wish to advise you, Miss Burrows,” he replied.  “I believe you know who I am and it is folly for us to pursue this game of hide-and-seek any longer.  You are tired and worn out with your long ride and the anxiety I have caused you.”