the
least.

"He has started for Midlands," he said. "What do you think of his
explanation in regard to his absence last night?"

"I think--I know--it is a lie!" was the quick reply.

"You really believe she went away to meet him--and that he has passed
the last twenty-four hours with her."

"Undoubtedly."

The critic waited a minute.

"Do you think they are married?" he asked.

Roseleaf closed his eyes, as a terrible pain shot across them. He
wondered dimly why this fellow should delight in uttering things that
must cause suffering. Gouger deliberated whether to say more, but
thinking that he had left the right idea in the young man's mind for the
purpose he had in view, he softly withdrew from the chamber and left the
house. When Roseleaf looked up again, some minutes later, he was alone.

* * * * *

Mr. Weil's hand was grasped feebly by the owner of Midlands, when he
came into the presence of the gentleman. Though completely exhausted Mr.
Fern had not been able to sleep. He listened wearily while his caller
suggested possibilities to account for his daughter's absence, but could
not agree that any of them were probable. When the idea was broached of
communicating with the police he shrank from that course, but finally
admitted that it must be adopted, if all else failed. In answer to a
hundred questions he could only say that he had no idea of anything that
could make her absence voluntary.

"She loved her chosen husband devotedly," said the old man. "When she
hears what I have to tell her she will hold a different opinion."

"Then," said Archie, ignoring the latter expression, "she must either be
the victim of an accident, a fit of aberration, or--"

He could not bear to finish the sentence, but the father bowed in
acquiescence.

Lunch was served and Mr. Weil sat down to it, trying by his example to
persuade Mr. Fern to take a few mouthfuls. Neither of them had any
appetite, and the attempt was a dismal failure.

"I leave everything to you," said the host, as Mr. Weil prepared to take
his departure. "You are the truest friend I ever had, and whatever you
decide upon I will endorse. But I have an awful sinking at the heart, a
feeling that I shall never see my child alive. Do you believe in
premonitions? I have felt for weeks that some misfortune hung over me."

Before Mr. Weil could reply a servant entered with a telegraphic message
that had just been received. Tearing