grass; the birds sang merrily overhead, and the warm
sunshine lighted up the wood with a beauty far different than was
apparent upon that bleak winter night when Henry Schulte met his
death upon the spot where they now were standing.

They then walked together up the railroad, and meeting the mother and
sister returning home, Sommers bade them a pleasant good-bye and
promised to pay them another visit as soon as practicable.

He determined to make this visit the groundwork of a definite attack
upon the reticence of William Bucholz. The next morning, upon going
to the jail, he informed William of his visit to South Norwalk, and
of his meeting with Sadie Waring. After relating the various
incidents that had occurred during his visit, and which were listened
to with lively interest, he turned suddenly to Bucholz, and lightly
said:

"By the way, Bucholz, the Warings are going to move."

Bucholz started suddenly, as though the information conveyed an
unpleasant surprise.

"You must not let them move, Sommers," he exclaimed quickly, and with
an evidence of fear in his voice. "That will never do."

"I can not prevent their moving," replied Sommers. "They will do as
they please about that, I guess. Besides, what has their moving got
to do with us?"

"Oh, everything, everything," exclaimed Bucholz.

"Well, they are going at all events."

"Then the money must be got. Oh, Sommers, do not betray me, but one
of the pocket-books is in the barn."

"Whereabouts in the barn?" inquired Sommers, almost unable to conceal
his satisfaction at the success of his ruse.

"I will show you how to get it. I will draw a sketch of the barn, and
show you just where it is to be found," exclaimed William, hurriedly.
"Oh, my dear Sommers, you do not know how worried I have been. I
first threw the money under the straw in the barn, and on the Sunday
morning after old Schulte was killed I went out in the barn to get
it, and put it in a safe place, when I found that the straw had been
taken away. I stood there as if I was petrified, but I looked
further, and there, under the loose straw upon the ground, I saw the
pocket-book lying all safe. The man who had taken the straw away had
not been smart enough to see it. I felt as though a bright gleam of
sunshine had come over me, and I picked it up and hid it away in a
safe place. My God! My God! What a fool I was."

"I should think so," replied Sommers.

Bucholz then drew a sketch of the barn,