We said in our last chapter that Dr. Maltby went directly home after leaving Brookland. We will take the liberty to state that it was near five o’clock when he reached his office. He did not stay long in his office—about fifteen minutes, perhaps. Then he went in the parlor to see Mrs. King. This lady was not very well.

When he was seated and the customary questions about health &c. were through with, Mrs. King asked her old question over again.

“You have heard nothing of Albert since morning, I suppose?” She said this inquiringly.

“No, madam, nothing as yet, but I hope he will show himself before long,” the doctor said evasively.

He did not tell her of Albert being suspected of stabbing Mattie Sowers, nor did he tell her of a detective being put on his track.

“How is Miss Sowers this evening, Doctor?” said Mrs. King.

“Well, she is not any better,” said the doctor hesitatingly.

“I don’t suppose they have heard from William Reed yet, have they, Doctor?” Mrs. King said, trying to get her mind off of Albert.

“No, they have not,” the doctor said, and then he added: “William made a blunder when he took the notion not to write until he was ready to come home.”

“Why, did he make such a promise as that, Doctor?”

“Yes, and I think it was a perfect blunder.”

“Where did he expect to go if he didn’t do well in Chicago?”

“The last time I saw him, he said he would go to California if he couldn’t do well in Chicago.”

“Doctor, did you ever notice he is just the picture of my boy? A stranger could not tell one from the other after they were seen together, and then to see them separate, do you think so?”

“No, I do not believe they could. They are very much alike.”

“What a nice companion Will would be with Al.”

“Yes, they would indeed. I have often thought of that.”

“Doctor, do you think Willie has reached Chicago yet?”

“No, not yet. He will by tomorrow evening.”

“When he gets there, he won’t know where to go.”

“Oh yes, I guess he will. He is a smart young man. It is a wonder your son did not go with him.”

“Well, Al would have gone, but I did not want him to go. Perhaps he has went anyhow. Oh, I did not think that of my son a few days ago. If he only knew what awful apprehensions I have of him being in danger, he would come back to me.”

“Now Mrs. King, I say always hope for the best.”

“Oh Doctor, you haven’t got any children to care for. You don’t know how a mother loves her child.”

“Yes, Mrs. King, I know something of the depth of a mother’s love. I had as kind a mother as ever lived,” the doctor said feelingly, and he added:

“You must calm yourself. I will tell you that you must make yourself as calm as possible.”

“Well, I will try to do so, Doctor, and I hope he will soon be found or soon return.” After a short pause, she asked:

“Who is attending Mattie, Doctor?”

“Miss Ella Armstead. And she is a good nurse, I can tell you.”

“Oh yes, Ella Armstead is the girl that Al and Will were both going to see.”

“Yes, I believe your son and William did pay particular attention to the young lady in question, and if I was in Al’s place I would be putting in a few words to my own advantage— Ella is certainly a beautiful young lady.”

“Why, Doctor, you are quite enthusiastic, and I suppose from your long experience you are a good judge of beauty.”

“And to speak plainly, Mrs. King, I will say that you must have had long experience to be so good a flatterer, don’t you think so?”

“No, I do not, sir. I don’t flatter. I don’t know how to flatter,” Mrs. King said laughingly.

“Well, we will turn our conversation in another channel,” the doctor said. “In the first place, I saw the new miller, and he is a fine looking young man. I’ll vouch for that.”

“What is his name, Doctor?” inquired Mrs. King.

“Hugh Walters is his name. I think he will cut them all out and take Ella himself.”

“Not if my Albert comes back to me.”

“Well, we are fast drifting back into the old channel again,” the doctor said.

“Yes, and I must see about supper. Excuse me, Doctor, I must absent myself a little while.”

“I will do so with pleasure and amuse myself with some of your books, periodicals, and so forth.” Mrs. King attended her duties in the kitchen and then returned to the parlor with the doctor.

“Well, whose photograph is this?” the doctor asked as Mrs. King came in and found him looking in her family album. She looked at the picture and said:

“Why, that is a photograph of my brother, the brother I was telling you about—he had that taken when he was about twenty years of age.” The doctor studied it for some time and then said:

“I would have declared it to be William Reed if I was a man of quick decision.”

“It looks more like Albert, I think, for I do not know why it should favor William Reed. He is no relative of ours.” The doctor didn’t say anything again for some time, but the old proverb says “still water runs deep,” and its modern addition is, “the Devil’s at the bottom.” Finally, the doctor said:

“Well, who is he anyhow? I do not think he is Wilson Reed’s son. He is altogether a different man from Wilse.” Mrs. King said hesitatingly,

“No, Doctor, I have often thought perhaps he was not Wilse Reed’s son after all. Why, I have seen Wilse, and he is no more like William than chalk is like cheese.”

“Well, it is no use for us to try to solve the mystery,” the doctor said dryly.

“You don’t really think there is [a] mystery, do you, Doctor?”

The doctor seemed overconfident as he said, “Very likely there is. At least, I think so.”

“Well, it does seem strange,” said Mrs. King. “It does seem strange that William Reed is the son of so repulsive a looking man as Wilse Reed.”

“Yes, and I’ll find out for certain, if it takes half my time,” said the doctor confidently.

“It would be very romantic if he would prove to be some rich man’s son,” said Mrs. King pertly.

“Yes, it would be very romantic, but not too much so to be true.”

“Well, I would like to see him come out well and prove himself a trump,” Mrs. King said enthusiastically, and after a while she added: “I would not hate for him to be my nephew or near relative, for he is a nice young man.”

“Well, if I was a married man and had such a noble fellow as he is for my son, I would thank heaven.”

Our hero is gone, dear Reader, but he has left a good many friends behind. Will they know him when he comes back? We fear not.

Dick came in and announced supper.

The doctor and his hostess went in to enjoy the repast. This over, the doctor went out to see some other patients of his. As he rode along in his buggy, he muttered, “That’s a foolish idea I have got, but I can’t help thinking that William Reed is not Wilse Reed’s son.” He rode out the Plank Road to see a patient of his. However, he soon returned. He went to his office and stayed awhile, then went in the parlor and stayed until nine o’clock. From there to bed, and about eleven o’clock he was called again by Jack. Jack said:

“Marse, please hurry down to Marse Sowers’ house. Somebody shot through the window at Miss Mattie or Miss Ella one or de oder.”

“Why, Jack, someone must have a great strife at your folks, I should think,” said the doctor, as he hurried to get ready to go. When they were started, the doctor said:

“Well, Jack, you have not told me what was the matter with your people. Did the pistol shot hurt anyone?”

“Why, Marse Doctor, I was so e’cited I had done forgot to tell you what was de matter— de fact is dis: de ball from de pistol struck de head of Miss Mattie’s bed, and it sceared her into hysterics. We’s afeard she won’t recober shure ’nuff now.” After a pause, the doctor asked:

“Was anyone in the room beside Miss Mattie?”

“No sah, dey—yes sah, dey was. Miss Ella was in dere, an’ she is a brave young lady. She didn’t scream or holler, but Miss Mattie hollered awful.” They soon reached Mr. Sowers’ residence.

He was greatly agitated because of his troubles. He met the doctor at the door.

“Oh Doctor,” said he, “who do you think it really is? Who can have any spite at me? Is it someone I have—” He paused and led the way upstairs. The doctor soon examined Mattie and gave her such medicine as was needed, but he said it was best for him to stay a couple of hours. In about an hour, they all left the room except Dr. Maltby and Ella. They soon got to conversing in low tones.

“Miss Ella, a penny for your thoughts?” the doctor said mischievously.

“My thoughts are not worth a penny, Doctor.”

“Well, give them to me if you please anyway.”

“I am thinking that my thoughts at present would not interest anyone.”

“Well, since you won’t tell me your thoughts, I will tell you what they are.”

“What are they, Doctor?”

“They are of William, I am certain. Now ain’t they?”

Ella would not hesitate to speak the truth, so she said, “Yes, Doctor, they were—I was thinking of Will{iam} when you first spoke.”

 

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“No indeed, sir. I did not scream. The first thing I did was to try to keep Mattie from getting out of the bed,” said Ella succinctly.

“Well, did the noise arouse the house?” the doctor asked after a few moments’ silence.

“Yes sir. Mr. Sowers soon came in here, and he said such strange words.”

“What were they?” inquired Dr. Maltby.

“Why, he said as he saw what was done: ‘Oh god, is this done to avenge those I have—’ He did not say any more, Doctor.”

“He done the same way down in the hall,” said the doctor interestedly.

“Well,” said Ella, “I am satisfied there is someone been wronged by him.”

“Perhaps there is, and perhaps there is not,” returned the doctor. Their conversation ran on thus for some time, but we will not tire the Reader in giving all the details as they might not be interesting. We will ask one question, and in the course of time, we will answer that question.

Who was it that was trying so hard to kill Mattie Sowers? Our Readers suspect who it was. Each time the person was dressed in miller’s clothes. Was it Albert King? Or who was it? We shall find out. The night was passing along. Soon, very soon, the darkness would have to make way for the light. Jack and Aunt Sally were sitting by the fire. They had a little fire, for it was still. They were afraid to go to bed.

“Jack, I can’t tink fur my life what is de matter wid de people,” said Aunt Sally. “No indeed, honey, I can’t to save my life. I can’t think what is de matter wid ’em,” she said again after a short pause.

“Well, Sally, it’s no use to be bodderin’ yourself about somethin’ you knows nothin’ about, but I am goin’ to have a drink o’ whiskey as sure as you’re born,” said Uncle Jack conclusively, and he went to his jug and helped himself. He came back staggering.

“Now Jack, you knows it was jist yestidday dat Marse Josh lectered you on de faults o’ drinkin’ whiskey.”

“Yes (hic) Sally (hic) I know (hic) he did but (hic) lecturing ain’t whippin’, so I conten’ it’s rite to drink as much as I please.”

About this time, Dr. Maltby was heard coming down. He hurried home to bed, for he was very tired and he needed rest.

It was two o’clock when he got to his office. He left Ella at the bedside of Mattie Sowers. There was little or no change in Mattie.

So there Ella sat in an untiring watch. She refused to have anyone with her, for she knew it would only interrupt her reveries. She fell into a reverie as soon as the doctor left. Her thoughts soon came to words. She muttered:

“Oh, I hope dear Willie is safe. I know it must be Al King that is trying to kill poor Mattie.”

And so, leaving her thinking of her lover and dearest friend, we turn our attention elsewhere immediately.