prevent their
spread as gossip through the town. That this may be done
conscientiously, however, I ought to know something more of the latter
circumstance. If Miss Butterworth will then be good enough to grant me a
few minutes' conference with these ladies, I may be able to satisfy
myself to such an extent as to let this matter rest where it is."

I rose with right good will. A mountain weight had been lifted from me,
proof positive that I had really come to love these girls.

What they told him, whether it was less or more than they told me, I
cannot say, and for the moment did not know. That it had not shaken his
faith in them was evident, for when he came out to where I was waiting
in the hall his aspect was even more encouraging than it had been
before.

"No guile in those girls," he whispered as he passed me. "The clue given
by what seemed mysterious in this house has come to naught. To-morrow we
take up another. The trinkets found in Mother Jane's cottage are
something real. You may sleep soundly to-night, Miss Butterworth. Your
part has been well played, but I know you are glad that it has failed."

And I knew that I was glad, too, which is the best proof that there is
something in me besides the detective instinct.

The front door had scarcely closed behind him when William came storming
in. He had been gossiping over the fence with Mr. Trohm, and had been
beguiled into taking a glass of wine in his house. This was evident
without his speaking of it.

"Those sneaks!" cried he. "I hear they've been back again, digging and
stirring up our cellar-bottom like mad. That's because you're so
dreadful shy, you girls. You're afraid of this, you're afraid of that.
You don't want folks to know that mother once--Well, well, there it is
now! If you had not tried to keep this wretched secret, it would have
been an old matter by this time, and my affairs would have been left
untouched. But now every fool will cry out at me in this staid,
puritanical old town, and all because a few bones have been found of
animals which have died in the cause of science. I say it's all your
fault! Not that I have anything to be ashamed of, because I haven't, but
because this other thing, this d--d wicked series of disappearances,
taking place, for aught we know, a dozen rods from our gates (though I
think--but no matter what I think--you all like, or say you like, old
Deacon Spear), has made every one so touchy in this pharisaical town
t