etwater complied; and such is the unconsciousness with which we often
encounter the pivotal circumstance upon which our future or the future
of our most cherished undertaking hangs, he omitted from his story, the
sole discovery which was of any real importance in the unravelling of
the mystery in which they were so deeply concerned. He said nothing of
his walk in the woods or of what he saw there.

"A meagre haul," he remarked at the close.

"But that's as it should be, if you and I are right in our impressions
and the clew to this mystery lies here in the character and daring of
Orlando Brotherson. That's why I'm not down in the mouth. Which goes to
show what a grip my prejudices have on me."

"As prejudiced as a bulldog."

"Exactly. By the way, what news of the gentleman I've just mentioned? Is
he as serene in my absence as when under my eye?"

"More so; he looks like a man on the verge of triumph. But I fear the
triumph he anticipates has nothing to do with our affairs. All his time
and thought is taken up with his invention."

"You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small comfort can
I carry him."

XXVII. THE IMAGE OF DREAD

In the comfortable little sitting-room of the Scott cottage Doris stood,
looking eagerly from the window which gave upon the road. Behind her on
the other side of the room, could be seen through a partly opened door,
a neatly spread bed, with a hand lying quietly on the patched coverlet.
It was a strong looking hand which, even when quiescent, conveyed the
idea of purpose and vitality. As Doris said, the fingers never curled
up languidly, but always with the hint of a clench. Several weeks
had passed since the departure of Sweetwater and the invalid was fast
gaining strength. To-morrow, he would be up.

Was Doris thinking of him? Undoubtedly, for her eyes often flashed his
way; but her main attention was fixed upon the road, though no one was
in sight at the moment. Some one had passed for whose return she looked;
some one whom, if she had been asked to describe, she would have called
a tall, fine-looking man of middle age, of a cultivated appearance
seldom seen in this small manufacturing town; seldom seen, possibly, in
any town. He had glanced up at the window as he went by, in a manner too
marked not to excite her curiosity. Would he look up again when he came
back? She was waiting there to see. Why, she did not know. She was not
used to indulging in petty sup