It was our old friend Kent. And as soon as he ceased speaking, he crawled as near the edge of the precipice as was safe—he listened for some time. Finally he heard someone walking cautiously toward the ledge—then he heard someone call out: “All’s right, Sowers. I am here, just shell out your specie^[1] at once.”

He knew the voice well enough, so he still listened. Presently, he heard Sowers say: “How much money do you want, Wilse? I am getting tired of this.”

“Sowers, I want one hundred dollars!” he heard Wilse Reed say. “And if you tell me again that you are getting tired of this, I’ll tell the detective all I know about you, you old hypocrite. You confounded reprobate, I’ll tell all!”

Kent was drinking in every word eagerly. Every word spoke volumes to him—he was sure now that he had the right one.

“Name the amount, Wilse, or did you name it? I will give you all the money you want. for I don’t want my daughter to hear of my treachery,” Sowers said in a trembling voice. Kent was a kind-hearted man, and he felt very sorry for Sowers.

“I hate to do it, but I must do my duty,” muttered Kent as he still crouched on the edge of the precipice.

“I said I wanted one hundred dollars,” Wilse Reed said bluntly. Then Kent heard the rattling of the silver and gold. He also heard Sowers say:

“There it is, Wilse. Now I must hurry to the house. My wife might miss me. Good-night, Wilse.”

“Good-night,” Wilse said sullenly, and Kent crept out from his hiding-place and hurried to the house. As he hurried along, he muttered:

“I am none the worse off for my little reconnaissance. I have gained a point at least.” He soon reached the house and went to bed. He heard Sowers come in, and he soon fell asleep after that.

On the following morning, he was up pretty early and walked down by the ledge. He saw a piece of paper laying [sic] there, and he stooped down and picked it up.

Thinking it might be of use to him in the future, he started to put it in his vest, as it looked like a blank piece of paper. He took a second glance at it and he could dimly see marks on there—ink marks, and as he was a man of quick decision, he soon came to the conclusion that it could be read by holding the paper under water. He accordingly held it under the water.

“Another mystery for me to fathom, by Jove!” said he gleefully. After he had held the paper under the water a few moments, he read the words over and over again, as if trying to get them by heart. Finally he rose from the bank of the creek, and, folding the paper, put it in his vest pocket. He then walked on toward the mill, muttering satisfactorily to himself: “I am a lucky man as sure as I am alive. My little morning walk has helped me to gain a clue to another little mystery. I’ll see the parties interested in this little by-play^[2] as soon as I can.” He entered the mill [and] exchanged a cordial with Hugh Walters. Then he went into the counting-room, as the office was generally called. “I will be able to build a new house for my family,” said he as he took a seat. “It is my duty, as well as money in my pocket, to unravel all this tangled web. Here I have—one—two—three—four—cases to ‘fix’ up before I leave the ‘Sic Semper Tyrannis’^[3] state.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together gleefully as he spoke.

It was not long before breakfast was ready, and he went to the house with Hugh.

“You seem to be in a good humor, Mr. Kent. What has happened to make you so happy?” remarked Hugh half-inquiringly.

“You will find out in plenty time. I must keep this as a secret for a while, old friend,” said Kent good humoredly, yet positively.

“All right, sir, I am willing to abide my time,” answered Hugh readily.

“In the course of time I will say like Shakespeare,” said Kent, “I will say to you before a great while: ÷ ‘Let me speak how these things came about; So shall you hear of secret, evil, and unnatural acts.’”^[4]

“That is some of Shakespeare’s famous words, are they?” asked Hugh.

“Yes sir,” answered Kent. “They are some of his great words.”

“So, you have business to attend this morning,” resumed Hugh.

“Yes, business. Business,” replied Kent, and he resumed after a short pause:

E’en a child might understand
The de’il has business on his hand.^[5]

They were at the dining room door by this time, and they at once sat down to the table to enjoy the frugal meal. This finished, Kent started off on his privileged horse to look over the country. He took a lunch with him. It looked rather large just to be a lunch, but a man is privileged to carry as “big” a lunch as he chooses, ain’t he? Of course—why not?—that is if he can get it. He was soon lost from sight in the woods. Dr. Maltby came down that morning to see Mattie. He didn’t stay long. He said he would stop again as he came back from Berryville, as he had to go down there on business. Kate Barton came up to see Mattie that morning:

“How are you this morning, dear Mattie?” was [sic] Kate’s first words as she entered the chamber where Mattie was.

“I am well as can be expected, Kate,” answered Mattie. She could not speak harsh [sic] when she was greeted so lovingly:

“How are you, Kate?” inquire[d] she after a short pause:

“I am well, thank you,” replied Kate. “La!^[6] Me!  I never was sick in my life!”

Ella was there and she saw it was time to interfere, so she said: ÷

“Kate, come out here and look at Mattie’s flowers.” And when Kate came out of the room, Ella said easily:

“Kate, I don’t want you to refer to that dreadful night. I don’t want you to say anything to Mattie about it. The doctor said we must not say anything to her about it until she gets perfectly well.”

“No, I won’t say anything,” said Kate.

She then returned to the room. She fixed everything for Mattie’s comfort. Mattie awaked in about half an hour’s time. She looke[d] around for her visitor.

“Is Kate gone at last?” she asked Ella.

“Yes, she has gone, and I wish she would stay,” replied Ella.

“She talked me to Sleep. I wish she would stay away from here,” said Mattie. The morning soon slipped away. At about one o’clock, Dr. Maltby came along. He went in again to see Mattie.

“You will soon be able to go to the Springs,” said he encouragingly.

“Hope I will, Doctor,” was the reply.

“How long will it be before she is able?” queried Ella, greatly pleased to hear the remark.

“Well, about the first of August,” said the doctor. “It is not so very soon, after all,” he added, after a short pause.

“No, I don’t think so,” replied Ella.

“I’ll be glad to get off at that,” said Mattie cheerfully.

“Yes, we must always thank a kind master for sparing our lives,” responded Dr. Maltby. “Thank the Great One,” resumed he, “for our lives being spared after such protracted illness.”

“I always thank him for his mercy,” replied Mattie feelingly.

The doctor soon left for Winchester. As he rode along, the merry warbling of the birds didn’t attract his attention.

He rode on swiftly, thinking of other days. He soon arrived at his office. Dick put his horse away, and he went in his office, and, taking a seat, he tried to interest himself in reading a book.

While he was sitting there, another scene was being enacted outside.

A man came around the corner—apparently an Irishman—and looking up he read:

“Dr. Maltby’s Office.” That was the sign which hung over the doctor’s office door. The Irishman (?) entered and said in his richest brogue:

“The top of the afternoon to yees, Docther. How do yees find yersel’?”

“Thank you, sir, I am well, and I don’t think you are very sick,” answered the doctor.

“Well, I can’t say I am,” said the Irishman (?). “But to business,” resumed he. “Your name is Robert Maltby. You had a swateheart and you have lost her. I can give you a clue to her if yer like.”

“Can you give me a clue to her? But no, I dare not hope. How did you find my name out? Never mind, tell me about her.” The Irishman (?), thus encouraged, went on.