o Mr.
Atwater--"

"I have not left my house since I came in here three hours ago."

"Then--" I began.

But he hushed me with a look.

"It is not a matter of money," he declared almost with dignity. "Those
who think to reap dollars from the distress which has come upon the
Ocumpaugh family will eat ashes for their pains. Money will be spent,
but none of it earned, unless you, or such as you, are hired at so much
an hour to--follow trails."

Greatly astounded not only by the attitude he took, but by the calm and
almost indifferent way in which he mentioned what I had every reason to
believe to be the one burning object of his existence, I surveyed him
with undisguised astonishment till another thought, growing out of the
silence of the many-roomed house above us, gripped me with secret dread;
and I exclaimed aloud and without any attempt at subterfuge:

"She is dead, then! the child is dead!"

"I do not know," was his reply.

The four words were uttered with undeniable gloom.

"You do not know?" I echoed, conscious that my jaw had fallen, and that
I was staring at him with fright in my eyes.

"No. I wish I did. I would give half of my small savings to know where
that innocent baby is to-night. Sit down!" he vehemently commanded. "You
do not understand me, I see. You confound the old Doctor Pool with the
new."

"I confound nothing," I violently retorted in strong revulsion against
what I had now come to look upon as the attempt of a subtile actor to
turn aside my suspicions and brave out a dangerous situation by a
ridiculous subterfuge. "I understand the miser whom I have beheld
gloating over his hoard in the room above, and I understand the doctor
who for money could lend himself to a fraud, the secret results of which
are agitating the whole country at this moment."

"So!" The word came with difficulty. "So you _did_ play the detective,
even as a boy. Pity I had not recognized your talents at the time. But
no--" he contradicted himself with great rapidity; "I was not a redeemed
soul then; I might have done you harm. I might have had more if not
worse sins to atone for than I have now." And with scant appearance of
having noted the doubtful manner in which I had received this
astonishing outburst, he proceeded to cry aloud and with a commanding
gesture: "Quit this. You have undertaken more than you can handle. You,
a messenger from Mrs. Ocumpaugh? Never. You are but the messenger of
your own cupidity; and