DOUGLAS brought the powerful roadster to a standstill under the porte-cochère of the Carew , and disentangling himself from among the levers and wheel, ran up the few steps. Before he could ring the bell the door was opened by Colonel Thornton.
 
“Come in,” he exclaimed . “I saw you from the drawing-room window, and, as Joshua has gone to ask Mrs. Winthrop if she can see me, I thought I would let you in and not keep you outside.”
 
“Thanks, Colonel.” Douglas followed the older man into the drawing-room. “Have you seen Miss Eleanor?”
 
“No. Here, don’t sit on that gilt-edged insecurity,” as Douglas pulled forward a chair. “This sofa is big enough to hold us both. Tell me, are there any new developments in the Carew case?”
 
“Only that Brett is convinced Captain Lane is guilty, and, from what he said this morning, I should not be at all surprised to hear of the latter’s arrest.”
 
“Good Lord! you don’t say so. Poor, poor Cynthia. I greatly fear another shock will prove most dangerous in her present nervous condition.”
 
“Has Mrs. Winthrop consented to Miss Carew’s spending to-morrow at your house?”
 
“I don’t know yet——” Colonel Thornton stopped as the portières parted and a woman stepped into the room. Thinking it was Mrs. Winthrop, he started to rise, but it proved to be Annette, and he sank back in his seat.
 
“Bon jour, Messieurs,” Annette readjusted the portières with care, then walked with catlike quickness over to where the men were sitting. “Mistaire Hunter, you are investigating ze death of Senator Carew, n’est-ce pas, and you, Monsieur,” turning to Colonel Thornton, “are Madame Winthrop’s man of affairs?”
 
“Well, what then?” asked Douglas quickly.
 
“Only that I may be of help.”
 
“Indeed?”
 
“Oui, Messieurs,” calmly. “I know—much.”
 
“Good,” Thornton’s tone betrayed his satisfaction. “Go ahead and tell us.”
 
“Ah, non, non, Monsieur,” Annette shook her head violently. “First, I must have some monie.”
 
“What, a ?” Douglas with rising indignation.
 
“Non, Monsieur; a reward.”
 
“You must first tell us what you know,” explained Thornton patiently. “Then, if your information leads to the arrest and conviction of the murderer, you will be paid the one thousand dollars offered by Mrs. Winthrop.”
 
“One thousand dollars, did you say, Monsieur? Non, I will not sell my news for that.”
 
“It is the amount offered by Mrs. Winthrop.”
 
“But Madame Winthrop is willing to give five thousand.” Annette glanced eagerly at the two men. “My news is worth that.”
 
Thornton shook his head. “Mrs. Winthrop has reconsidered, and will not give more than one thousand,” he declared with finality.
 
An frown Annette’s pretty face. “I will not take less than five thousand,” she announced with emphasis.
 
“You go too fast,” broke in Douglas quietly. “First, the reward will not be paid until after the murderer is convicted; , your information may be of no value whatever.”
 
“Zo?” Annette’s smile was not pleasant. “Zen I keep my news to myself,” and she started for the door.
 
“Wait,” commanded Thornton. “Come back here.” Then, as she obeyed, he added in a more tone: “If your information is really valuable, Annette, I am willing to advance you some money. But first you must tell us what you know and suspect.”
 
“How much?”
 
“Say fifty dollars,” drawing out his leather wallet and extracting several yellow backs which he held temptingly in his hand.
 
“Not enough, Monsieur.”
 
Thornton lost all patience. “I shan’t offer you another damn cent,” and he thrust the money back into the wallet.
 
Annette’s eyes flashed. “Very well, Monsieur le Colonel; I go. But when I come back you will have to pay me more—but yes—more than that beggarly five thousand!” and with a stamp of her foot, she turned and hastened out of the room.
 
“A nice she-devil!” remarked Thornton, gazing blankly at Douglas.
 
“I think——” Douglas stopped speaking as the portières were again thrust aside and Eleanor walked in.
 
“Uncle Dana, Mrs. Winthrop is waiting to see you in the library. Oh, Mr. Hunter, good morning”—her slender hand was almost lost in his firm clasp—“I did not know you were here.”
 
“I called hoping that you might care to take a motor ride,” said Douglas quickly.
 
“Why, yes, with pleasure.” She sank down on the sofa and motioned Douglas to draw up a chair.
 
“Eleanor,” broke in Thornton, returning from the hall door, “did you tell that precious maid of yours that Mrs. Winthrop would give five thousand dollars reward for information leading to the conviction of the murderer of Senator Carew?”
 
“Annette!” in profound . “No, certainly not; I’ve never spoken to her on the subject. Where did you get such an idea?” Her voice rose to a higher key.
 
“She has just been here and insists that we pay her five thousand for some information which she declares will solve the puzzle of poor Carew’s death.”
 
Eleanor smiled incredulously. “Nonsense, I don’t believe she knows a thing about it.” Her bright color had faded and she gazed anywhere but at the two men.
 
“It may be,” suggested Douglas thoughtfully, “that while in this house she has found a certain paper for which Brett is searching.”
 
“That’s possible,” agreed Thornton. “It was announced in yesterday’s papers that a reward of one thousand dollars had been offered. But what gets me is how Annette knew Mrs. Winthrop might raise the amount to five thousand—the very sum, in fact, which she first thought of offering.”
 
“I’m sure I don’t know.” Eleanor frowned in perplexity.
 
“Is she a good servant?” inquired Douglas.
 
“I have always found her honest and reliable. She brought me excellent recommendations when she came to me in Paris, where I engaged her,” replied Eleanor.
 
“It may be that the mystery has gone to her head,” suggested Thornton, “and she is inspired to play detective.”
 
“Personally, I think she is taking advantage of the present situation to money,” objected Douglas.
 
“I believe you’ve hit it,” exclaimed the older man. “Tell Brett, Douglas, he may be able to induce Annette to tell what she knows. I must go now and see Mrs. Winthrop.”
 
“Let me know what she decides about Sunday,” called Eleanor, as Thornton, for the second time, hurried out of the room.
 
“You are looking tired, Miss Thornton,” said Douglas, glancing at her .
 
“I didn’t get much sleep last night. Cynthia was , and I sat up with her until five o’clock this morning.”
 
“No wonder you are worn out.” Douglas looked his concern. “I really think a motor ride would do you lots of good. Do keep your promise and come for a spin.”
 
Eleanor glanced doubtfully down at her pretty house gown. “If you don’t mind waiting while I change——”
 
“Why, certainly.”
 
“I won’t be long”—and Eleanor disappeared.
 
Douglas did not resume his seat; but instead paced the room with long, nervous strides. Eleanor was not the only one who had passed a night. He had sat up and wracked his brain trying to find the key to the solution of the mystery surrounding the Senator’s death. Annette must be made to tell what she knew. Perhaps Brett’s authority as an officer of the law might her. It was worth trying. Walking down to the folding doors, which led from the drawing-room to the dining room, he opened them and found Joshua busy polishing the mahogany table.
 
“Is there a branch telephone in the house?” he asked, “besides the one in the library? Mrs. Winthrop is in there and I don’t want to disturb her.”
 
“Suttenly, suh; dar’s one right in de pantry, suh,” and Joshua, dropping his work, piloted him to the instrument.
 
It took him but a few minutes to get police headquarters on the wire, only to find that Brett was out. Whistling softly, he hung up the receiver and went back into the drawing-room. Eleanor had not appeared, and he sat down at the inlaid desk, which was supplied with pen, ink, and paper, and wrote a short note while he waited for her return.
 
“Where’s Eleanor?” asked Thornton, coming into the room and picking up his hat, which he had left on one of the chairs.
 
“Here,” and his niece, who had entered just behind him, joined them. “I am sorry to have kept you so long, Mr. Hunter, but I found Annette had gone out on an errand for Cynthia, and I had to do without her assistance.”
 
“You were very successful.” Thornton made her a courtly bow, as he gazed at his beautiful niece. Her fashionable light-gray suit and smart hat were extremely becoming. Eleanor colored faintly as she read the in Douglas’ eyes.
 
“What luck did you have with Mrs. Winthrop, Uncle Dana?” she asked.
 
“The best. She said she thought it an excellent plan. So I shall expect you both this afternoon, Eleanor, and you had better stop and pick up your Cousin Kate Truxton on your way out.”
 
“Very well, I will; but, Uncle Dana, we won’t get over to you until just before dinner.”
 
“That will do.” The two men followed Eleanor out into the square hall. “Don’t forget, Douglas, that I expect you, too.”
 
“That’s very good of you, sir,” Douglas hesitated, “but don’t you think I might be in the way in a family party?”
 
“A family party is exactly what I wish to avoid,” exclaimed Thornton. “Cynthia needs to be taken out of herself. And, therefore, I want you to spend Sunday with us, as if it were a regular house party.”
 
“Then I’ll come with pleasure.” Douglas helped Eleanor into the low seat of the motor, and clambered in behind the wheel. “I’m sorry there isn’t a third seat, Colonel, and that I can’t take you where you wish to go.”
 
“I left my car down by the ; thanks all the same, Douglas,” and Thornton waved a friendly good-bye to Eleanor as the motor started slowly down the driveway.
 
“If you have no objection, I will stop at the Municipal Building for a moment, Miss Thornton,” said Douglas, turning the car into Thirteenth Street.
 
“I don’t mind in the least. What a magnificent motor!”
 
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