And what of Celine, or Madeline, as we may call her once more?

She had said, when writing to Olive, that her stay in the city must be very brief. But even her strong will could not keep off the light attack of fever that was the result of fatigue and exposure to night breezes. And the morning following her arrival at the villa, found her unable to rise from her bed.

Dr. Vaughan was summoned in haste, and his verdict anxiously waited for. “It was a slight fever attack,” he said, “but the wearied-out body must not be hurried. It must rest.”

And he forbade Madeline to leave her room for a week at least, unless she wished to bring upon herself a return of her summer’s illness.

Much to his surprise and gratification, Madeline did not rebel, but replied, philosophically: “I can’t afford to take any risks now; I will be good. But you must watch my interests.”

During the first day of her “imprisonment,” as she laughingly called it, Clarence and Olive were put in possession of all the facts that had not already been communicated by letter.

Upon one thing they were all agreed, namely, that it would be wise for Clarence to make another journey to Bellair.

“They won’t be able to accomplish much during the week that I must remain inactive,” said Madeline. “But it will be safest to know just what they are about. Besides, I have reasons for thinking that Henry is growing dissatisfied, and it is to our interest to keep him where he is for the present. Had a suitable opportunity offered, I should have made him aware of my identity. But as it did not present itself, I left it with Hagar to inform him that he was serving me by remaining.”

Dr. Vaughan prepared to visit Bellair on the second day after the arrival of Madeline. But almost at the moment of starting there came a summons from one of his patients, who was taken suddenly worse. Thinking to take a later train he hastened to the sick man; but the hour for the last train arrived and passed, and still he stood at the bedside, battling with death. So it transpired that nearly three days had elapsed since the flitting of Celine Leroque, when Dr. Vaughan entered the train that should deposit him at dusk in the village of Bellair.

It had been prearranged by Madeline and Hagar that, in case of any event which should delay the return of the former on the day appointed, the latter was to visit the post-office and look for tidings through that medium. Madeline had been due at Oakley the day before, and so, of course, to-day Hagar would be in attendance at the office.

Dr. Vaughan had written, at the moment of quitting his office to visit his patient, a hasty supplement to Madeline’s letter, stating that he was delayed one train, but not to give him up if he did not appear that evening. He would certainly come on the next day’s train.

Clarence was somewhat fatigued as he entered the railway carriage, having spent the entire previous night at the bedside of his patient. He went forward to the smoking car, thinking to refresh himself with a weed.

Four men were engrossed in a game of cards not far from him. As they became more deeply interested, and their voices more distinct above the roar of the cars, something in the tones of one of the men caught his ear, reminding him of some voice he had sometime heard or known. The speaker sat with his back to the young man, and nothing of his countenance visible save the tips of two huge ears. These, too, had a familiar look.

Clarence arose and sauntered to the end of the car, in order to get a view of the face that, he felt assured, was not unknown to him.

The man was absorbed in his game and never once glanced up. Our hero having taken a good look at the not very prepossessing face, returned to his seat. He had recognized the man. It was Jarvis, the detective who had been recently employed by him to shadow Lucian Davlin.

It was not a remarkable thing that Jarvis should leave the city on the same train with himself, but the circumstance, nevertheless, set Clarence thinking. Could it be possible that the man had found something to arouse his suspicions, and was he following up the clue on his own account?

Clarence felt an unaccountable desire to know where the detective was going. If he were going to Bellair, then he must be bought over. If he were going to Bellair, he, Clarence, must know it before the village was reached. It was hardly probable that the man’s destination was identical with his own, but he had now determined to run no risks.

Throwing back his overcoat, and setting his hat a trifle on one side, Clarence sauntered up to the group of card players, assuming an appearance of interest in the game. As he paused beside them, Jarvis swept away the last trick of a closely-contested game, and then said, consulting his watch the while:

“There’s for you! I’ve got just three-quarters of an hour to clean you out in, so come on.”

Three-quarters of an hour! The exact time it would take to run to Bellair.

Clarence shifted his position so as to put himself behind the two men seated opposite Jarvis. As he did so, the expert glanced up, encountering the eye of Dr. Vaughan.

“How are you?” said that young man, nonchalantly.

Jarvis shot him a keen glance of intelligence, and replied, in the same off-hand tone: “High, you bet!”

Jarvis was attired like a well-to-do farmer; and Clarence guessed, at a glance, that his three companions were strangers, two of them being commercial tourists, without a doubt, and the third, a ruddy-looking old gent, who might have been anything harmless. Taking his cue from the “make up” of the detective, Clarence, after giving him an expressive glance, said, easily, “Sold your stock?”

Jarvis cocked up one eye as he replied, while shuffling the cards: “Every horn!”

“Want to buy?”

Jarvis looked him straight in the eye. “Want to sell?”

“Yes, rather.”

Jarvis dealt round with great precision, and then said: “All right, Cap. I’ll talk with you when I get through this game.”

Clarence nodded, and presently sauntered away. As soon as his back was turned, Jarvis jerked his thumb toward him, saying, confidentially:

“Young fellow; swell farmer; big stock-raiser.” And then he plunged into the game with much enthusiasm.

Clarence resumed his seat and, for a few moments, thought very earnestly. The words of the detective had confirmed his suspicion. He now felt assured that Jarvis was bound for Bellair, and if so he was, no doubt, in the employ of Lucian Davlin, for some unknown purpose. What that purpose was, he must know at any cost.

By the time his plans were fairly matured, he observed that the group of card-players was breaking up. In another moment, Jarvis lounged lazily along and threw himself down upon the seat beside him.

In little more than half an hour they would be due in Bellair, and what Clarence desired to say must be said quickly. Taking out his cigar-case, he offered the man a weed, which was accepted with alacrity, and while it was being lighted, Clarence said: “Are you especially busy now?”

“N-o; only so-so.”

“Learned anything more in regard to my man?”

“Davlin?” interrogatively.

“Yes.”

“No,” puffing contentedly; “we don’t move in a case after it’s paid off.”

“I see,” smiling; and then, making his first real venture: “Could you do some work for me to-morrow?”

Jarvis looked keenly at him, and Clarence hastened to say, with perfect, apparent, candor:

“The fact is I have been put back by a patient, and my own personal affairs have been neglected. So I have been unable to look you up at the office, in order to put a little matter into your hands. To-day I am called away unexpectedly.” Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, “How long will you be out of town?”

Jarvis shook his head. “Don’t know.”

“By Jove, what a pity. I’d rather have you than any other man, and I won’t stand about money; but my work won’t keep long.”

The doctor’s flattery and the detective’s avarice combined, had the desired effect. Jarvis unbent, and became more communicative. “Fact is,” he said, squaring about, “I don’t know my lay just yet.”

“No?” inquiringly: “Going far out?”

“No.”

“Well,” as if about to drop the conversation, “I’m sorry you can’t do the job. It’s big pay and success sure. The truth is,” lowering his voice confidentially, “there are two parties beside myself interested, and both have plenty of money. It’s a snug sum to the man who does our work.”

The detective looked grave, and then became confidential in his turn.

“The fact is,” he was fond of using “facts” when it was possible to lug one in “I am sent out to a small town as a sub.”

“A sub.?”

“Yes; substitute. You see, one of our men was detailed to do some work for a chap who came to the Agency from this little town. It was a case of record hunting. Well, the man went out last night all O. K.; he was a little on the sport when off duty, but a tip-top chap when at work. Well, he got into a gambling brawl, and this morning they brought him in, done up.”

“Done up?”

“Yes; killed, you know.”

“Oh!”

“And so, you see, I am ordered down here to take the instructions of my gentleman, in the place of my pard, who won’t receive any more orders here below.”

“Then you don’t yet know precisely what is required of you?”

“No; I was packed off at half an hour’s notice, and don’t even know the name of my employer. I have my instructions and his address here,” tapping his breast pocket. “I believe the party lives out of town, at some manor or other.”

Clarence was thinking very fast. There was but one “Manor” in or near Bellair. He looked at his time-card; there was but one town between them and that village. Holding the card in his hand he said:

“Well, I will try and tell you what I want done; that is, if there is time how soon do you leave the train?”

Jarvis now scented a fat job, and thinking only of getting the particulars of that replied, rather incautiously, as he consulted the time-card in the hand of Clarence.

“By goshen! it’s only two stations off Bellair.”

“Oh! Bellair, eh?”

Jarvis nodded ruefully, and then asked: “Where do you land?”

Clarence smiled a little as he replied: “Wait until you hear my business, then you will know where I am going.”

“All right; fire away.”

And the expert settled himself into a listening attitude. “The truth is, Jarvis, I want you back on the old case.”

“What, the gambler’s?”

“Yes, Davlin; he is about at the end of his rope, and will, in a short time, be trying to quit the country. Did you ever see the woman who is his partner in iniquity? You heard considerable of her while looking up this business.”

“Heard of her? I should think so. Never saw her, though.”

“No matter; you may see her soon. You see, they are now at work upon a fine piece of rascality. She has actually married an old man, supposing him to be wealthy, and Davlin is figuring as her brother. In reality, the old man, their victim, holds only a life interest in the property. So you see, even if they succeed with the thing in hand, they won’t make much. And the person who will inherit, after the old gentleman passes away, is aware of their real character and is ready to spring upon them at the proper moment.”

Jarvis gave a long, low whistle.

“Now, then, there is another crime one that occurred some years ago, with which this man and woman are connected, and they are allowed to go free for a little time in order to complete the evidence in this second case.”

Jarvis nodded sagely.

“So you see there will be double fees, and large ones. First, from the heir, and next, from the parties interested in the last case. The two are friends, in fact, and work together. Of course, I should expect to act according to the rules of your office, and I know that you are paid by your manager, but if you can put me in possession of all the movements of Lucian Davlin for the next week, in addition to the salary paid you by your head officials, I will promise you one thousand dollars. If, later, you can supply the missing evidence, it shall be five thousand.”

Jarvis looked hastily behind him. “Is he in this train?”

“No.”

“Then were the dev ”

“Wait,” interrupted Clarence. “I’ll tell you where he is. But first you may attend to the business on which you came to Bellair. You may obey the instructions you shall receive to the letter. But I must know what it is you are bidden to do.”

Jarvis knitted his brows and finally said, as if giving up a knotty problem, “Make things plainer; I am befogged.”

“Plainly, then,” said Clarence, “you are going to Bellair; and,” drawing out his pocket-book, “you are not retained as yet for this work?”

“No.”

“Well,” placing a one hundred dollar bill in his hand, “I retain you for my case, here and now, and you may accept the other fee if you like.”

“How?”

“Look at the address of your new client.”

Jarvis took from his pocket a number of cards, shuffled them off deftly and, selecting the right one at last, read slowly the name of his unseen employer. Then he glanced quickly up at Clarence, re-read his card, and leaning back upon the cushion, shook with silent laughter.

“Well, if you ain’t the rummest one yet! And I’m your man! Why, bless my soul, you are a lawyer and detective all in one!”

Clarence smiled, but he knew this was the highest compliment that Jarvis was capable of. “Then I may depend upon you?” he asked.

“You bet!”

They were nearing the village of Bellair now, and Clarence, who did not intend to let Jarvis know too much concerning his movements, gave him some hasty instructions, and ended by asking: “When do you go back to the city to report?”

“By the next train. Davlin is expecting me, and I shall take his orders and then go back.”

“Very well; I’ll see you in town to-morrow. Now, as it won’t do to risk the chance of being seen together, I will go into the other car.” And Clarence sauntered away.