ake shores.
Finally it occurred to Beth that he might have gone to join Rob and
me, so they sent the messenger to investigate.

"He must be lost in the woods somewhere," said Beth tearfully, "and
he will starve to death."

Rob actually touched her hand in his distress at her grief.

"Ptolemy is too smart to get lost anywhere," I declared. "He knows
fully as much about woodcraft as he does about every other kind of
craft. He's one of his mother's antiquities personified. But haven't
you been able to find anyone who saw him after you went for your
ride?"

"No; even the hotel help were all out on the lake."

"And he left Diogenes here, absolutely unguarded?"

"Well!" admitted Silvia, "he tied Diogenes to a tree near the
sandpile."

"Then he must have gone away with malice aforethought," I said,
"and Diogenes is the only one who knows anything about his last
movements."

I lifted the child to my knee, and speaking more gently to him than I
had ever done, I asked:

"Di, did you and Tolly play in the sandpile yesterday?"

He was quite emphatic in his affirmative.

"Well, tell Ocean: Did Tolly go away and leave you?"

"Tolly goed away," he confirmed.

"Oh, Lucien!" protested Beth, laughing. "He's too little to know what
you are talking about or to remember."

"Lucien's ruling passion strong in death," murmured Rob. "He can't
help cross-examining the cradle even!"

"Which way," I resumed, ignoring these interruptions, "did Tolly
go--that way?" pointing towards the woods.

"No! Tolly goed--" and he trailed off into his baby jargon which no
one could understand, but he pointed to the lake.

"What did he say when he went away; when he tied the rope around
you?"

"Bye-bye."

"What else?"

Diogenes' intentions to be communicative were certainly all right, but
not a word was intelligible. As he kept picking at his dress and
pointing to it, I finally prompted:

"Did Tolly pin a paper to Di's dress?"

"'m--h'--m."

"Bravo, Lucien!" applauded Rob. "They say you can induce a witness to
admit anything."

"What did Di do with the paper?" I continued.

The word he wanted evidently being beyond his vocabulary and speech,
he made a rotary motion with his fist. The gesture conveyed nothing to
our minds, but was instantly recognized and interpreted by the
landlady's little girl, who said he meant a windmill such as she had
sometimes made for him.

"What did Di do with the windmill?" I asked.

He pointed t