gave him the number. "It will look
so very queer if I leave like this," she added. "I'd rather not excite
suspicion."

"All right," he replied, taking out a booklet and jotting down "Miss
Root," and the address she had mentioned. "I'll write to you in the
name the deaf woman remembers, or thinks she remembers, and no one need
know who you are. If I hurry now I can catch the train that connects
with the local on the Hartford division for Rockdale."

They turned and went back to the house.

"You don't know how long you'll be gone?" she said as they neared the
steps. "You cannot tell in the least?"

"Long enough to do some good, I hope," he answered. "Meantime, don't
see anybody. Don't answer any questions; and don't neglect to leave
here early in the morning."

She was silent for a moment, and looked at him shyly.

"I shall feel a little bit lonely, I'm afraid," she confessed--"with
none of my relatives, or friends. I hope you'll not be very long.
Good-by."

"Good-by," said Garrison, who could not trust himself to approach the
subject she had broached; and with his mind reverting to the subject of
his personal worry in the case, he added: "By the way, the loss of your
wedding certificate can be readily repaired if you'll tell me the name
of the preacher, or the justice of the peace----"

"I'd rather not--just at present," she interrupted, in immediate
agitation. "Good-night--I'll have to go in."

She fled up the steps, found the door ajar, and pushing it open, stood
framed by the light for a moment, as she turned to look back where he
was standing.

Only for a moment did she hover there, however.

He could not see her face as she saw his.

He could not know that a light of love and a mute appeal for
forgiveness lay together in the momentary glance bestowed upon him.

Then she closed the door; and as one in a dream he slowly walked away.

CHAPTER XXV

A DEARTH OF CLEWS

Garrison's ride on the train was a matter of several hours' duration.
Not only did he read every line of the story in the _Star_, which he
felt convinced had been furnished by young Robinson, but he likewise
had time to reflect on all the phases, old and new, of the case in
which he was involved.

But wander where they would, his thoughts invariably swung around the
troubled circle to Dorothy and the topic was she married or not, and if
she was,--where was the man?

He could not reach a decision.

Heretofore he had r