If either had noticed the unobtrusive listener to their conversation, neither made a sign.
The moment the door had closed on them Dale sprang into action.

She seemed a different girl from the one who had left the room so inconspicuously such a short time before.

There were two bright spots of color in her cheeks and she was obviously laboring under great excitement.

She went quickly to the alcove doors--they opened softly--disclosing the young man who had said that he was Brooks the new gardener--and yet not the same young man--for his assumed air of servitude had dropped from him like a cloak, revealing him as a young fellow at least of the same general social class as Dale's if not a fellow-inhabitant of the select circle where Van Gorders revolved about Van Gorders, and a man's great-grandfather was more important than the man himself.
Dale cautioned him with a warning finger as he advanced into the room.
"Sh! Sh!" she whispered.

"Be careful! That man's a detective!" Brooks gave a hunted glance at the door into the hall.
"Then they've traced me here," he said in a dejected voice.
"I don't think so." He made a gesture of helplessness.
"I couldn't get back to my rooms," he said in a whisper.