station. He smiled wearily. What difference did that make? He might as
well face old Blackburn, himself, as he was. By this time the thing was
done. The new will had been made. He was penniless and an outcast. But
his furtive manner clung. He didn't want Katherine to see him like this.

From the entrance of the village it was only a few steps to the
station. Several carriages stood at the platform, testimony that a
train was nearly due. He prayed that it would be for New York. He
didn't want to wait around. He didn't want to risk Katherine's driving
in on some errand.

His mind, intent only on escaping prying eyes, was drawn by a man who
stepped from behind a carriage and started across the roadway in his
direction, staring at him incredulously. His quick apprehension vanished.
He couldn't recall that surprised face. There was no harm being seen,
miserable as he was, dressed as he was, by this stranger. He looked at
him closer. The man was plainly clothed. He had small, sharp eyes. His
hairless face was intricately wrinkled. His lips were thin, making a
straight line.

To avoid him Bobby stepped aside, thinking he must be going past, but the
stranger stopped and placed a firm hand on Bobby's shoulder. He spoke in
a quick, authoritative voice:

"Certainly you are Mr. Robert Blackburn?"

For Bobby, in his nervous, bewildered condition, there was an ominous
note in this surprise, this assurance, this peremptory greeting.

"What's amazing about that?" he jerked out.

The stranger's lips parted in a straight smile.

"Amazing! That's the word I was thinking of. Hoped you might come in
from New York. Seemed you were here all the time. That's a good one on
me--a very good one."

The beating of Bobby's heart was more pronounced than it had been in the
deserted house. He asked himself why he should shrink from this stranger
who had an air of threatening him. The answer lay in that black pit of
last night and this morning. Unquestionably he had been indiscreet. The
man would tell him how.

"You mean," he asked with dry lips, "that you've been looking for me? Who
are you? Please take your hand off."

The stranger's grasp tightened.

"Not so fast, Mr. Robert Blackburn. I daresay you haven't just now come
from the Cedars?"

"No, no. I'm on my way to New York. There's a train soon, I think."

His voice trailed away. The stranger's straight smile widened. He
commenced to laugh harshly and uncouthly.

"Sure there's a