to the window, and looked out. It was a beautiful morning, the green lawn yet sparkling with dew; the estate was evidently a fine one, quite extensive and carefully attended to. To the right of the tennis court was a well arranged flower garden, criss-crossed by white paths, an ornate summer-house in its centre, completely concealed by vines. Beyond this, conspicuous against the green back-ground, West caught the flutter of a white skirt, realizing instantly that, early as the hour was, Natalie Coolidge was already up and about. He wondered if her presence might not be an invitation for him? Perhaps she had deliberately chosen this early hour, before the others awoke, to explain her strange conduct of the previous evening? At least, here was an opportunity to see and talk with her alone.
He dressed swiftly, and slipped noiselessly down-stairs, unlocking the front door, and emerging into the fresh air, without encountering any stray members of the household. Not even a servant was visible. He passed beyond the vine draped arbour before she realized his approach, and straightened up, a freshly cut rose in one gloved hand, the pruning shears in the other, welcoming him with a little laugh, her eyes full of demure mischief.
"I rather suspected army discipline had not entirely worn off," she said pleasantly, "and that you might still prove to be an early riser."
"And does this expectation account for your presence?"
"Not wholly; it has become a habit with me. I am always the first one out in the morning, and it will be an hour yet before breakfast is served. However, I promised to be very frank with you, did I not? Then I will begin now; this morning I really hoped I might see you for a moment before the others were stirring—we have so much to talk about."
"It certainly seems so to me," he responded honestly, yet not greatly encouraged by the amusement in her eyes. "The night has been full of surprises."
"During which you bore yourself exceedingly well. I have always read of the initiative of the American soldier, Captain, and in this case, you met my every expectation."
"Then I have passed the test?"
She hesitated, her eyes seeking his, and then falling before his gaze.
"Yes," she acknowledged slowly, "I can scarcely say anything else now; the—the affair has progressed so far already there is nothing to do but go on with it."
"Yet I remain wholly in the dark," he protested.. "Surely you cannot expect real service when given so blindly?"
"No, I do not. I mean to trust you fully. It is the only way; but do you still truly wish to serve?"
"I am enlisted in the cause without reserve," he insisted warmly. "While I learned but little last evening, that little was enough to convince me there is something strange under the surface. Your calling me to your assistance is no joke—you actually need me."
"I need some one on whose judgment and courage I can rely," she answered earnestly, "and I believe now that you are the one. It is rather an odd situation, Captain West, but the circumstances surely justify my action. Perhaps I shall have time to partly explain now. Let us slip into the concealment of this summer-house; no one can approach without being seen."
It was dark and cool under the shadow of the vines, but, for a moment after they were seated, neither spoke. West waited expectantly for his companion to break the silence, and she seemingly found it difficult to begin her story. The flush deepened on her cheeks, and her lips parted.
"It really seems so ridiculous," she explained at last desperately. "Almost like a dream of fancy, and I hardly know how to put the situation into words. If I were ten years younger I would almost be convinced myself that it was all imaginary, yet everything I tell you is true. I wonder if you will believe me?"
"Do not question that. I realize fully your earnestness."
"Yet I am going to test your credulity, just the same. But it would be very foolish to venture as far as I have already, and then fail to go on. So I'll tell you just what I know, and—and then leave it there. That will be the best way. Those people you met last evening have nothing to do with the story—none of them, at least, unless it may possibly be Percival Coolidge. I am rather afraid of him; I always have been. I believe he knows what all this trouble means, but I do not dare go and talk with him about it. That is really what is the matter, I suppose—there is no one I can talk to; they would only laugh at me. If you do, I shall never forgive you."
"I am not at all so inclined. Tell me the story from the very beginning."
"Yes, I will. My father was Steven Coolidge, and was very wealthy. He did not marry until late in life, and, I have reason to believe it was a great disappointment to his brother Percival that a child was born. Perhaps I ought not to make such a statement, but much has occurred to impress me with his dislike—"
"He is your guardian?"
"Yes; you learned that last night?"
"From the Colonel; he seemed to enjoy talking, and naturally, I was curious. Has Percival Coolidge wealth of his own?"
"Only what my father left him, which was a considerable sum, and a limited interest in the business. He was very much dissatisfied with his share. Originally he was one of the two trustees in charge of the estate, but the other died, leaving him entirely in control. Before I was born he had confidently expected to inherit everything."
"The estate then is not settled?"
"Not until I am twenty-five; within a few days now."
"And your mother?"
"She died at my birth."
West leaned forward eagerly. "It is the estate then that troubles you?" he asked swiftly. "You imagine it has wasted?"
"No, not at all. They tell me it has increased in value. My father's lawyer assures me as to this. Percival Coolidge is a good business man, but something strange is going on behind the scenes. I cannot talk with the lawyer about it; I can scarcely be sure myself. I—I am simply up against a mystery I am unable to solve. Everywhere I turn I run into a blank wall."
"But I do not understand."
"How could you expect to, when it is so utterly obscure to me? I seem to be fighting against a ghost."
"A ghost!"
"Yes; now don't laugh at me! Do you suppose I would ever have done anything as reckless as advertising for help if I had not been actually desperate? Can you imagine a respectable girl performing so ridiculous an act, as putting her whole trust in a stranger, inviting him to her home, introducing him as her promised husband to her relatives and friends? Why, it almost proves me crazed, and, in a measure, I think I must be. But it is because I have exhausted all ordinary methods. I do not seem to be opposing anything of flesh and blood; I am fighting against shadows. I cannot even explain my predicament to another."
"You must try," he insisted firmly, affected by her evident distress. "I must be told everything if I am to be of any value. A half way confidence can accomplish nothing."
"But it sounds so foolish; I am being haunted! I know that, yet that is all I do know."
"Haunted, in what way?"
"I do not even know that; but by a woman, I think—a woman who must strangely resemble me. She pretends to be me—to my friends, to my servants, at my bank. I never see the creature,
