was, Miss Viola, but he done gone now."

"Gone? Where? Do you mean back to the house?"

"No'm. He done gone t' N'York."

"New York?"

"Yes'm. On de afternoon train. He say he may be back t'night, an' mebby
not 'twell mornin'."

"But New York-and so suddenly! Why did he go, Shag?"

"I don't know all de 'ticklers, Miss Viola, but I heah him say he got t'
git a book on poisons."

"A book on poisons?" and Viola started.

"Yes'm. He done want one fo' de case he's wukin' on, an' he can't git
none at de library, so he go to N'York after one. I'se bringin' back his
tackle. De fish didn't bite nohow, so he went away, de colonel did."

"Oh!"

Viola stood irresolute a moment, and then turned back toward the house,
Shag walking beside her.

CHAPTER XIV. THE PRIVATE SAFE

Divided as she was among several opinions, torn by doubts and sufferings
from grief, Viola Carwell found distinct relief in a message that
awaited her on her return to the house after her failure to find Colonel
Ashley. The message, given her by a maid, was to the effect:

"The safe man has come."

"The who?" asked Viola, not at first understanding.

"The safe man. He said you sent for him to open a safe and--"

"Oh, yes, I understand, Jane. Where is he?"

"In the library, Miss Viola."

Viola hastened to the room where so many fateful talks had taken place
of late, and found there a quiet man, beside whose chair was a limp
valise that rattled with a metallic jingle as his foot brushed against
it when he arose on her entrance.

"Have you come from the safe company?" she asked.

"Yes. I understood that there was one of our safes which could not be
opened, and they sent me. Here is the order," and he held out the paper.

He spoke with quiet dignity, omitting the "ma'am," from his salutation.
And Viola was glad of this. He was a relief from the usual plumber or
carpenter, who seemed to lack initiative.

"It is my father's private safe that we wish opened," she said. "He
alone had the combination to it, and he--he is dead," she added softly.

"So I understood," he responded with appreciation of what her grief must
be. "Well, I think I shall be able to open the safe without damaging it.
That was what you wanted, was it not?"

"Yes. Father never let any one but himself open the safe when he was
alive. I don't believe my mother or I saw it open more than ten times,
and then by accident. In it he kept his private papers. But, now that
h