positively won't come to-day. But I don't see why
you can't come now and Sunday, too."

"I couldn't do it, dear lady."

"Well, Sunday then, if that is the earliest you can make it."

She smiled an adieu to Willie and Celestina, and with her little head
proudly set preceded Bob to her car. But although the great engine
throbbed and purred, it was some time before it left the gate and
flashed its way down the high road toward Belleport.

After it had gone and Bob was once more in the house, Celestina had a
score of questions with which to greet him. How remarkable it was that
the owner of the missing jewelry should be some one he knew! The
Galbraiths must be well-to-do. What was the brother like? Did he
favor his sister?

These and numberless other inquiries like them furnished Celestina with
conversation for the rest of the day. Willie, on the contrary, was
peculiarly silent, and although his furtive glance traveled at frequent
intervals over his young friend's face, he made no comment concerning
Miss Cynthia L. Galbraith and her silver buckle.

CHAPTER VIII

SHADOWS

In the meantime the two men resumed their labors in the shop, touching
shoulders before the bench where their tools lay. They planed and
chiselled and sawed together as before, but as they worked each was
conscious that a barrier of sudden reserve had sprung up between them,
obstructing the perfect confidence that had previously existed. At
first the old inventor tried to bridge this gulf with trivial jests,
but as these passed unnoticed he at length lapsed into silence. Now
and then, as he stole a look at his companion, he thought he detected
in the youthful face a suppressed nervousness and irritation that found
welcome vent in the hammer's vigorous blow. Nevertheless, as the
younger man vouchsafed no information regarding the morning's
adventure, Willie asked no questions.

He would have given a great deal to have satisfied himself about
Cynthia Galbraith. It was easily seen that her family were persons of
wealth and position with whom Robert Morton was on terms of the
greatest intimacy. It even demanded no very skilled psychologist to
perceive the girl's sentiment toward his guest, for Miss Galbraith was
a petulent, self-willed creature who did not trouble to conceal her
preferences. Her attitude was transparent as the day. But with what
feeling did Robert Morton regard her? That was the burning question
the little man