Mr. Fern was he would have struck the speaker had not
the third person in the room interfered.

"Do you dare to speak in that manner of my daughter!" he cried. "Must
you attack the character not only of my best friend but of my child as
well? I thank God at this moment, whatever be her fate, that she did not
join her life to yours!"

With a majestic step he strode from the presence of his late prospective
son-in-law. Gouger, with a feeling that some one should accompany him,
followed. But first he turned to speak in a low key to the novelist.

"Do not go out to-night, unless you hear from me," he said,
impressively. "This may not be as bad as you think, after all. I will go
to Midlands and return with what news I can get. Don't act until you are
certain of your premises."

The young man was removing his wedding suit, already.

"I shall not go out," he responded, aimlessly.

"You might write a few pages--on your novel," suggested the critic, as
he stood in the hallway. "There will never be a better--"

A vigorous movement slammed the door in his face before he could
complete his sentence.

Hastening after Mr. Fern, Gouger accompanied him home, where the first
thing he heard was that there was still no news of the missing one.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AN AWFUL NIGHT.

It was an awful night for Wilton Fern. The presence in the house of Mr.
Gouger and Mr. Boggs aided him but little to bear the weight that
pressed upon his heart. It was better than being entirely alone, but not
a great deal. Together they listened whenever their ears caught an
unusual sound. Twenty times they went together to the street door and
opened it to find nothing animate before them.

Morning came and still no tidings. The earliest trains from the city
were visited by servants, for the master of the house was too exhausted
to make the journey. And at nine o'clock the gentlemen who had passed
the night at Midlands took the railway back to New York, with no
solution of the great problem.

Mr. Gouger had not been in his office an hour before the door opened and
in walked Archie Weil. The critic started from his chair at the
unexpected sight, and remarked that he had not expected to see his
visitor so early.

"I presume you heard the news and came home at once," he added,
meaningly.

Mr. Weil was pale, and wore the look of one whose rest has been
disturbed.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied. "I was called away on business
t