first gave him no success at all, but, undiscouraged, he tried the other.
"I wish to see Miss Dupuy," he said, to the woman who opened the door.
"She is not here," was the curt answer. But the intelligence in the woman's eye at the mention of the name proved to Fessenden that at least this was the place.
"Don't misunderstand," he said gently. "I want to see Miss Dupuy merely for a few moments' friendly conversation. It will be for her advantage to see me, rather than to refuse."
"But she is not here," repeated the woman. "There is no person of that name in my house."
"When did she go?" asked Rob quietly—so quietly that the woman was taken off her guard.
"About half an hour ago," she said, and then, with a horror-stricken look at her own thoughtlessness, she added hastily, "I mean my friend went. Your Miss Dupuy I do not know."
"Yes, you do," said Rob decidedly, "and as she has gone, you must tell me at once where she went." The woman refused, and not until after a somewhat stormy scene, and some rather severe threats on Fessenden's part did she consent to tell that Cicely had gone to the Grand Central Station. More than this she would not say, and thinking he was wasting valuable time on her, Rob turned and, racing down the stairs, for there was no elevator, he jumped in his cab and whizzed away to the station.
Chapter XXI.
A Successful Pursuit
Before he entered the station he looked through the doorway, and to his delight saw the girl for whom he was looking.
He did not rush madly into the station, but paused a moment, and then walked in quietly, thinking that if his quest should be successful he must not frighten the excitable girl.
Cicely sat on one of the benches in the waiting-room. In her dainty travelling costume of black, and her small hat with its black veil, she looked so fair and young that Rob felt sudden misgivings as to his errand. But it must be done, and, quietly advancing, he took a seat beside her.
"Where are you going, Miss Dupuy?" he asked in a voice which was kinder and more gentle than he himself realized.
She looked up with a start, and said in a low voice, "Why do you follow me? May I not be left alone to go where I choose?"
"You may, Miss Dupuy, if you will tell me where you are going, and give me your word of honor that you will return if sent for."
"To be put through an examination! No, thank you. I'm going away where I hope I shall never see a detective or a coroner again!"
"Are you afraid of them, Miss Dupuy?"
The girl gave him a strange glance; but it showed anxiety rather than fear. However, her only reply was a low spoken "Yes."
"And why are you afraid?"
"I am afraid I may tell things that I don't want to tell." The girl spoke abstractedly and seemed to be thinking aloud rather than addressing her questioner.
It may be that Fessenden was influenced by her beauty or by the exquisite femininity of her dainty contour and apparel, but aside from all this he received a sudden impression that what this girl said did not betoken guilt. He could not have explained it to himself, but he was at the moment convinced that though she knew more than she had yet told, Cicely Dupuy was herself innocent.
"Miss Dupuy," he said very earnestly, "won't you look upon me as a friend instead of a foe? I am quite sure you can tell me more than you have told about the Van Norman tragedy. Am I wrong in thinking you are keeping something back?"
"I have nothing to tell," said Cicely, and the stubborn expression returned to her eyes.
It did not seem a very appropriate place in which to carry on such a personal conversation, but Fessenden thought perhaps the very publicity of the scene might tend to make Miss Dupuy preserve her equanimity better than in a private house. So he went on:
"Yes, you have several things to tell me, and I want you to tell me now. The last time I talked to you about this matter I asked you why you gave false evidence as to the time that Mr. Carleton entered the Van Norman house that evening, and you responded by fainting away. Now you must tell me why that question affected you so seriously."
"It didn't. I was nervous and overwrought, and I chanced to faint just then."
Fessenden saw that this explanation was untrue, but had been thought up and held ready for this occasion. He saw, too, that the girl held herself well in hand, so he dared to be more definite in his inquiries.
"Do you know. Miss Dupuy, that you are seriously incriminating yourself when you give false evidence?"
"I don't care," was the answer, not flippantly given, but with an earnestness of which the speaker herself seemed unaware.
And Fessenden was a good enough reader of character to perceive that she spoke truthfully.
The only construction he could put upon this was that, as he couldn't help believing, the girl was innocent and therefore feared no incriminating evidence against her.
But in that case what was she afraid of, and why was she running away?
"Miss Dupuy," he began, starting on a new tack, "please show more confidence in me. Will you answer me more straightforwardly if I assure you of my belief in your own innocence? I will not conceal from you the fact that not every one is so convinced of that as I am, and so I look to you for help to establish it.
"Establish what? My innocence?" said Cicely, and now she looked bewildered, rather than afraid. "Does anybody think that I killed Miss Van Norman?"
"Without going so far as to say any one thinks so, I will tell you that they think there are indications that point to such a thing."
"How absurd!" said Cicely, and the honesty of her tone seemed to verify Fessenden's conviction that whatever guilty knowledge this girl might possess, she herself was innocent of crime.
"If it is an absurd idea, then why not return to Mapleton and answer any queries that may be put to you? You are innocent, therefore you have nothing to fear."
"I have a great deal to fear."
The girl spoke gently, even sadly, now. She seemed full of anxiety and sorrow, that yet showed no trace of apprehension for herself.
All at once a light broke upon Fessenden. She was shielding somebody. Nor was it hard to guess who it might be!
"Miss Dupuy," began Rob again, eagerly this time, "I have succeeded in establishing, practically, Mr. Carleton's innocence. May I not likewise establish your own?"
"Mr. Carleton's innocence!" repeated the girl, clasping her hands. "Oh, is that true? Then who did do it?"
"We don't know yet," went on Rob, hastening to make the most of the advantage he had gained; "but having assured you that it was not Schuyler Carleton, will you not tell me what it is you have been
