CHAPTER XIV.

THRILL BEGETS THRILL.

Gladwin's exit from the room served as a signal for the agile-witted

Barnes to strike while the iron was hot. His friend had hardly

vanished through the portières when he turned to Helen with an air of

easy confidence, looking frankly into her eyes, and said:

"It's singular that my friend doesn't know what you referred to--the

object of your call," and he nodded his head with a knowing smile.

"Why, do you?" asked Helen eagerly, coming toward him.

Whitney's knowing smile increased in its quality of knowingness and he

spoke with an inflection that was quite baffling.

"Well," he said, in a confiding whisper, "I have an idea; but

he"--jerking his thumb over his shoulder where Travers Gladwin was

last seen departing from view--"is Travers Gladwin's most intimate

friend."

The astonishing character of this information served only further to

confuse the beautiful Miss Burton's already obfuscated reasoning

faculties and hypnotize her into that receptive condition where she

was capable of believing any solemnly expressed statement.

"Really!" she said with a little start of surprise.

"Oh, yes," ran on the glib Barnes, "they are lifelong chums--love each

other like brothers; one of those Castor and Pollox affairs, you

know--only more so. Never have any secrets from each other and all

that sort of thing."

Helen dropped back into her chair and her brow wrinkled with

perplexity.

"That's curious," she said. "I don't think Travers ever spoke to me

about that kind of a friend."

The idea was just burgeoning in her mind to ask for the friend's name

when Barnes hastened on:

"Well, now that is singular. Are you sure that"--

The sudden brisk return of Travers Gladwin saved Barnes from an

immediate excruciating tax upon his ingenuity.

"I'm awfully sorry," said Gladwin, going to Helen and shaking his head

regretfully, "but I couldn't find him."

"Oh, dear! That's very provoking!" cried Helen. "He didn't say he was

going out, did he?"

"No; I could have sworn he was here a few minutes ago," spoke up

Barnes, turning his head away for fear his smile would suddenly get

out of control.

"Well, is his man here?" demanded the girl.

"Why, he let you in," blurted Gladwin.

"I don't mean the Japanese."

"You mean the butler, perhaps," Gladwin corrected.

"Yes," Helen answered mechanically.

Travers Gladwin felt it was time for Barnes to take a hand again, as

his mental airship was bucking badly in the invisible air currents.

"Is Gladwin's butler here?" he inquired sharply, frowning at Barnes.

"No," said Barnes promptly.

"I am sorry, but he is not here," Gladwin communicated to Helen.

"Well, where is he?" cried the exasperated Helen.

"Where is he?" Gladwin asked Barnes.

Whitney Barnes went down for the count of one but bobbed up serenely.

"Where is he?" he said with a nonchalant gesture. "Oh, he's giving a

lecture on butling."

The bewildered Miss Burton did not catch the text of this explanation.

In her increasing agitation she wrung her hands in her muff and almost

sobbed:

"I'm sure I don't know what to do. I simply must get word to him

somehow. It's awfully important."

Whitney Barnes saw the trembling lip and the dampening eye and strove

to avert a catastrophe that would probably double the difficulty of

probing into the mystery. Turning to Gladwin, but half directing his

remarks to Helen, he said:

"I've just been telling the ladies that you and Travers are bosom

pals."

Travers Gladwin flashed one look of amazement and then caught on.

"Oh, yes," he cried, "we are very close to each other--I couldn't

begin to tell you how close."

"And I have also hinted," pursued Barnes, "that you never have any

secrets from each other, and that I felt sure that you knew all

about--all about--a--a er--to-night."

"Oh, of course," assented Gladwin, beginning to warm up to his part

and feel the rich thrill of the mystery involved. "Yes, yes--of

course--he's told me all about to-night."

"Has he?" gasped Helen, looking into the young man's brown eyes for

confirmation, feeling that she liked the eyes, but uncertain that she

read the confirmation.

"Yes, everything," lied Gladwin, now glowing with enthusiasm.

All this while the shy and silent Sadie had remained demurely in her

chair looking from one to the other and vainly endeavoring to catch

the drift of the conversation.

Sadie was too dainty a little soul to be possessed of real reasoning

faculties. The one thought that had been uppermost in her mind all day

was that Helen was taking a desperate step, probably embarking upon

some terrible tragedy. She had hungered for an opportunity to compare

notes with some sturdier will than her own and the instant she heard

Travers Gladwin admit that he "knew all about to-night" she rose from

her chair and asked, breathlessly, turning up her big, appealing eyes

to Travers Gladwin:

"Then won't you--oh, please, won't you--tell her what you think of

it?"

There was something so naïve and innocent in Sadie's attitude and

expression that Whitney Barnes was charmed. It also tickled his soul

to see how thoroughly his friend was stumped. So to add to Travers's

confusion he chimed in:

"Oh, yes, go on and tell her what you think of it."

"I'd rather not," said Gladwin ponderously, trying to escape from the

appealing eyes.

"But really you ought to, old chap," reproved Barnes. "It's your duty

to."

"Oh, yes, please do!" implored Sadie.

The victim was caught three ways. Both young ladies regarded him

earnestly and with looks that hung upon his words, while Barnes stood

to one side with a solemn long face, elbow in one hand and chin

gripped tightly in the other, manifestly for the moment withdrawn from

rescue duty. There was nothing for the badgered young man to do but

mentally roll up his sleeves and plunge in.

"Well, then," with exaggerated sobriety, "if you must know--I

think--that is, when I was thinking of it--or I mean, what I had

thought of it, when I was thinking of it--turning it over in my mind,

you know--why, it didn't seem to me--I am afraid"--turning squarely on

Helen--"what I am going to say will offend you."

"On the contrary," cried Helen, flushing to her tiny pink ears, "if

you are Travers's best friend, I should like to know just what you

think of it."

"Well, then," said Travers Gladwin desperately, "if you must know the

truth, I don't like it."

"There!" breathed Sadie, overjoyed, and dropped back in her chair.

But Helen Burton was far from pleased.

"You don't like what?" she demanded.

"Why--this thing to-night," he groped.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew Mr. Hogg," the indignant girl flung

out.

"There, Gladwin--that's a clincher--you don't know Hogg."

Whitney Barnes was up to his ears in clover.

"How do you know I don't know him?" asked Gladwin, a little wildly.

"Why, how could you?" said Helen, accusingly.

"How could I know Mr. Hogg?"

"Yes."

"Why, just go out to his pen, introduce yourself and shake his tail."

Helen failed to see the humor of this sally and again the tears

struggled for an outlet.

"Now you're making fun of me," she said, turning away. "I think it's

very unkind."

Travers Gladwin felt a sharp pang of remorse and hated himself for his

break. In his eagerness to repair the wound, he stepped to the young

girl's side and said with great seriousness:

"I wouldn't hurt you in any way for the world."

Helen looked up at him and read the soul of sincerity and sympathy in

his eyes. She was both reassured and embarrassed by the intensity of

his look.

"Really?" she managed to murmur, backing away and sitting down again.

The mention of Mr. Hogg had inflamed Whitney Barnes's curiosity, and

he desired to know more of that unknown.

"Well, I don't see what Mr. Hogg has to do with it," he spoke up.

"Why, Auntie insists upon my marrying him."

Helen blurted this out involuntarily

"That's dreadful!" exclaimed Whitney Barnes, and Helen rewarded him

with a smile of gratitude.