t his marriage had unsettled
her, albeit in a fashion he had not fathomed till their talk together.
His young sister was very dear to him. She had been thrown upon his care
years before when the death of their parents had left her dependent upon
him. It had always been his wish to have her with him. His love for her
was of a deep, almost maternal nature, and he hated the thought of
parting with her. He had hoped that the companionship of Adela would have
been a joy to her, and he was intensely disappointed that it had proved
otherwise. His anxiety for her welfare had always been uppermost with
him, and it hurt him somewhat when Adela laughed at his hopes and fears
regarding the girl. It was the only point upon which his wife and he
lacked sympathy.

Entering by way of the kitchen premises on that evening of his talk
with Dot, he was surprised to find Adela fulfilling what had come to
be regarded as Dot's duties. He looked around him questioningly as she
emerged from the larder carrying a dish in one hand and a jug of milk
in the other.

"Where's the little 'un?" he said.

It was his recognized pet name for Dot, but for some reason Adela had
never approved of it. She frowned now at its utterance.

"Do you mean Dot? Oh, mooning about somewhere, I suppose. And leaving
other people to do the work."

Jack promptly relieved her of her burden and set himself to help her with
her task.

Adela was not ill-tempered as a rule. She smiled at him. "Good man, Jack!
No one can say you're an idler, anyway. I've got rather a nice supper for
you. I shouldn't wonder if Fletcher Hill turns up to share it. I hear he
is on circuit at Trelevan."

"I heard it, too," said Jack. "He's practically sure to come."

"He's very persistent," said Adela. "Do you think he will ever win out?"

Jack nodded slowly. "I've never known him fail yet in anything he set his
mind to--at least, only once. And that was a fluke."

"What sort of a fluke?" questioned Adela, who was frankly curious.

"When Buckskin Bill slipped through his fingers." Jack spoke
thoughtfully. "That's the only time I ever knew him fail, and I'm not
sure that it wasn't intentional then."

"Intentional!" Adela opened her eyes.

Jack smiled a little. "I don't say it was so. I only say it was
possible. But never mind that! It's an old story, and the man got away,
anyhow--disappeared, dropped out. Possibly he's dead. I hope he is. He
did mischief enough in a short time."

"He