“No, Walter,” she replied laughing merrily.  “You can’t go.  I want to try them on.”

Properly squelched, I retreated.  Elaine drove away and a moment later, I mounted and cantered off leisurely.

Near Del Mar’s bungalow might have been seen again the mysterious naturalist, walking along the road with a butterfly net in his hand and what appeared to be a leather specimen case, perhaps six inches long, under his other arm.

As Madame Larenz whizzed past in her car, he looked up keenly in spite of his seeming near-sightedness and huge smoked glasses.  He watched her closely, noting the number of the car, then turned and followed it.

Madame Larenz drew up, a second time, before Del Mar’s.  As she got out and entered, the naturalist, having quickened his pace, came up and watched her go in.  Then, after taking in the situation for a moment, he made his way around the side of the bungalow.

“Is Mr. Del Mar at home?” inquired Madame Larenz, as the valet ushered her into the library.

“No ma’am,” he returned.  “Mr. Del Mar is out.  But he left word that if you came before he got back, you were to leave word.”

The woman sat down at the desk and wrote hastily.  When she had finished the short note, she read it over and folded it up.

“Tell Mr. Del Mar I’ve left a note here on his desk,” she said to the valet.

A moment later she left the library, followed by the valet, who accompanied her to her car and assisted her in.

“The hotel,” she directed to her driver, as he started off, while the valet returned to the bungalow.

Outside, the naturalist had come through the shrubbery and had been looking in at the library window, watching every move of Madame Larenz as she wrote.  As she went out, he paused just a second to look about.  Then he drew a long knife from his pocket, forced the window catch, and quickly climbed into the room.

Directly to the desk he went and hurriedly ran over the papers on it.  There was the note.  He picked it up and read it eagerly.

“My apartment—­St. Germain—­3 P. M.

“Larenz.”

For a moment he seemed to consider what to do.  Then he replaced the note.  Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps.  It was the valet returning.  Quickly the naturalist ran to the window and jumped out.

A moment later, the valet entered the library again.  “That’s strange,” he exclaimed under his breath, “I don’t recall opening that window over there to-day.”

He looked puzzled.  But as no one was about, he went over and shut it.

Some distance down the road, the naturalist quietly emerged in safety from the bushes.  With scarcely a moment’s hesitation, his mind thoroughly made up to his course, he hurried along the road.

Meanwhile, at the St. Germain, Madame Larenz entered and passed through the rotunda of the hotel, followed by many admiring glances of the men.