"Was her money all in the jewels?"

"All but a few shares of stock, and a little real estate. Those, however, will help along, for they belong to Iris and young Bannard as her immediate heirs, aside from her will."

"Well, I should think you would have insisted on knowing a little more about things than that!"

"Why should I? I drew her will, I attended to such matters as she asked me to, and it was not my affair where she chose to conceal her wealth, especially as she had given me a sealed box to hand over to her heiress at her death. And, too, Miss Darrel, you didn't know my late client as well as I did. Indeed, I doubt if many people knew her as I did! A lawyer often has queer clients, but I'm sure she set a record for eccentricities! I suppose I drew up a score of wills for her, and Lord knows how many codicils were added! Then, too, I never knew when she would perpetrate one of her silly jokes on me. I've been called over here late at night, to take her dying testamentary directions, only to arrive and find her perfectly well, and laughing at me! I've been given an extra fee for some trifling service, only to find that payment had been stopped at the bank before I could present the check."

"And you stood for such treatment?"

"What could I do? She was an old and valued client; she paid well, and the checks were always honored later, after she had had her fun out of me. And, of course, her tricks were merely tricks. She never did anything dishonest or dishonorable. Then, too, I liked the old lady.

Aside from her one foolish fad, she was intelligent and interesting. Oh, Ursula Pell was all right, except for that one bee in her bonnet. Now, I am perfectly certain her h.o.a.rd of jewels is safely secreted and I think--I hope, she has left directions telling where they are. But if she hasn't, if, dying so unexpectedly, she has neglected to leave the secret, then I fear Iris will never get her inheritance. Why, they may be within a few feet of us, even now, and yet be so slyly hidden as to be irrecoverable."

"I think that's what the man was after last night."

"I daresay. But who was the man?"

"Not an ordinary burglar, for Iris declared he was a gentleman----"

"Gentlemen don't conduct themselves as----"

"You know what I mean! She said he was educated and cultured of speech and manner. Of course, he was a thief. He pretended he wanted the pin, but that was a blind. He was hunting the jewels."

"Well, _we'd_ better hunt Iris. I don't like her unexplained disappearance. Suppose we telephone to all the people we can think of, at whose homes she might be."

But this procedure, though including the Bowens and many other of Iris'

intimate acquaintances, brought forth positively no results. n.o.body had seen or heard from Iris that day.

At last they telephoned to Hughes, and the detective said he would come to Pellbrook at once.

When Iris realized that she had been actually kidnapped, her feelings were of anger, rather than of fright. The indignity of the thing loomed above her sense of danger or fear of personal injury. The little car, a landaulet, ran smoothly and rapidly, and as soon as they were well away from Pellbrook the stifling cloth was partially removed from her head, and Iris discovered that beside her was a young woman, whose face, though determined, was not at all awe-inspiring. She even smiled at Iris' furious expression, and said, "Now, now, what's the use? You may as well take it quietly."

"Take kidnapping quietly!" blazed Iris. "Would _you_?"

"If I couldn't help myself any more than you can, yes."

"Keep still! Too much chattering back there!" came a voice from the driver's seat, and a scowling face turned round for a moment.

"All right," retorted Iris' cheerful companion, "you mind your business, and I'll mind mine."

Then, she took the covering entirely off Iris' head, but at the same time she drew down the silk shades to the windows of the car.

"Sorry," she said, blithely, "but it must be did!"

"Where am I? Where am I going?" and Iris frowned at her.

"You dunno where you're going, but you're on your way," sang the strange girl, for she was little more than a girl. "Now, don'tee fight--just take it pleasant-like, and it will be lots better for you."

"I don't care for your advice, thank you; I ask you what it means that I am forcibly carried off in this way?"

"It means we wanted you, see? Now, Miss Clyde--or, may I call you Iris?"

"You may not!"

"Oh, very well--ve-ry well! But you call me Flossie, won't you?"

"I've no desire to call you anything----"

"Fie, fie! What a temper! Or doesn't your common sense tell you that it would be better for you to make friends with me than not?"

"I reserve the privilege of choosing my own friends."

"Oho! Of course you do, usually. But this is an unusual incident. An out-of-the-way occurrence, if I may say so."

Iris preserved a stony silence.

"All right, Miss Clyde. Here's your last chance. Be a little more friendly with me, and I a.s.sure you you'll get off much more easily.

Continue to rebuff me with these crool, _crool_ glances, and--take the consequences!"

The last three words were said in such a menacing tone that Iris jumped.

It seemed this laughing young woman could turn decidedly threatening.

Iris capitulated. "In view of what you imply, I'll be as friendly as I can, but I confess I don't feel really sisterly toward you!"

"That's better! That line o' talk is most certainly better. Now, maybe we can hit it off. What do you want to know?"

"Why I was carried off in this manner! Who did it? Where am I being taken? Why?"

"The questions put by thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to me----"

The lilting voice was true, and the soft tones very sweet. Iris was attracted, in spite of herself, to this strange person.

"I'll answer separately--every one apart----" she twittered on. "First, you were--ahem--acc.u.mulated, for a good and wise purpose. The princ.i.p.al actor, who could be said to answer your question of who did it, is not in our midst at present. You are being taken to a house. Why? Ah, if I tell you, you will know, won't you?"

Flossie looked provoking, but good-natured, and Iris deemed it wiser not to rouse her ire again.

"You haven't really answered, but I suppose you won't. Well, when can I go back home?"

"If you're goody-girl, you can return in, say, a couple of hours. If not--ah, if not!"

Suddenly a light broke upon Iris.

It was that pin! These strange people were after the pin!

And it was sticking in her shirtwaist frill, just where she had put it when Polly gave it to her. They must not get it! Now, if ever, she must use her wits. For, if anybody wanted that pin so desperately, it was, it _must be_ valuable. Also, if Ursula Pell had cherished that pin as old Polly described, it surely was valuable.

Iris thought quickly. This sharp-eyed girl would be difficult to hoodwink, yet it must be done. Had she seen the pin? A furtive glance at the full ruffle of lawn and lace showed Iris that the pin was not prominently visible, though she could see it. Why did they want it? But that didn't matter now--now she must hide it. Would she be searched, she wondered. Surely she would not be submitted to such an insult. Yet, it might be. At any rate, it must be hidden. This was the real pin, the others had not been, and these people who were after it knew that. What the pin meant, or why they wanted it, must be left undecided, but the pin must be made safe.