And that was all--for the Tracer of Lost Persons could not see through the eyes of Captain Harren, and perhaps that is why he was not able to discern a miracle of beauty in the pretty girl who confronted him--no magic and matchless marvel of transcendent loveliness--only a quiet, sweet-faced, dark-eyed young girl whose features and figure were attractive in the manner that youth is always attractive.

But then it is a gift of the gods to see through eyes anointed by the gods.
The Tracer touched his gray mustache and bowed; the girl bowed very sweetly.
"You are Mr.Keen," she said; "you have an inscription for me to translate." "A mystery for young eyes to interpret," he said, smiling.

"May I sit here--and tell my story before I show you my inscription ?" "Please do," she said, seating herself at her desk and facing him, one slender white hand supporting the oval of her face.
The Tracer drew his chair a little forward.

"It is a curious matter," he said.

"May I give you a brief outline of the details ?" "By all means, Mr.Keen." "Then let me begin by saying that the inscription of which I have a copy was probably scratched upon a window pane by means of a diamond." "Oh! Then--then it is not an ancient inscription, Mr.Keen." "The theme is ancient--the oldest theme in the world--love! The cipher is old--as old as King Solomon." She looked up quickly.