The silence was painful, but it was a continued one.

“That is Willie, my own dear Willie!” cried Ella at last, breaking the silence and going to the bed. She kissed the young man passionately, saying between her kisses:

“Oh, my own dear Willie, how did you get hurt so bad?” No answer came from the young man, for he was out of his mind. Kent had to take Ella away from the sick man, for she was hugging and kissing him so passionately that it was feared she would hurt some of his wounds.

“I was deceived after all,” said the baffled Kent. “I was sure I had Al King.”

“I had my doubts all the time,” responded Sowers. “He is so scarred up, it would take a keener eye than mine to identify him by his looks.”

“The name on the shirt explains all,” asserted Mattie, speaking for the first time since the finding of the name.

“Yes, that explains all, poor William!” said Mrs. Sowers. “Little did he think when he left that he would be brought back thus.”

“Yes, my poor son is in a bad fix,” said Wilse Reed as he went to the bed. “Son! Son, don’t you know me? William, don’t you know me?” The only answer he got was a blank stare. Kent watched Wilse when the latter was speaking to William Reed—for such we must call him since his friends call him by that name—Kent watched Wilse, and he saw a hideous smile play upon his features as he bent his head low while talking to his son (?). Kent noted all of this.

“I can never forgive myself for my careless words this morning,” said Ella despairingly.

“What were your words, Ella?” queried Mattie.

“Why, I told Dr. Maltby I would be so glad to see Willie come down the road this morning, and I am sure I didn’t want to see him carried. I was wishing to see him hale and hearty, but to my great sorrow he has been beaten by robbers and is nearly dead. Oh Mattie, I will go mad!”

“Don’t cry, dear Ella, don’t cry,” said Mattie soothingly. “You meant no harm by saying what you did, and you must be thankful he is no worse—be thankful he is living and you are able to attend him.”

Mattie’s words caused Ella[’s] old courage to come back to her in all its force.

“Thank you, dear Mattie, for your encouraging words,” said Ella, as she shook her friend’s hand warmly. “I will be thankful and hope for the best,” added Ella courageously.

“Well, I must go. Good-bye friends—good-bye, Ella,” said Herbert. As he started from the room, he gave his sister a kiss, and said: “Do all you can for him, Ella, and hope for the best—don’t be discouraged.”

“I will do my best, Brother. Give my love to Mother and Father and tell them I don’t know when I will come home.”

“All right, I will do so, and I’ll come over here tomorrow to see you.”

So saying, he and Hugh went over to the mill, talking as they went of the startling sensation they had just witnessed:

“You didn’t give Al King a thrashing,” affirmed Hugh. “You didn’t think of it, did you? Or, are you going to wait until he can stand a good thrashing?”

“I’ll wait until he is found, that is what I will do,” responded Herbert dryly.

All of the people left Willie’s room except Ella and Kent.

Ella said she was going to stay with the young man until he got well. An hour passed. Dinner was announced and all appeared promptly, so it soon ended. The sick man was still raging with fever. At about three o’clock, the doctor came to see his new patient. He was startled to hear of him being changed from Albert King to William Reed.

He stayed for a considerable time and, as is always the case, he was asked some questions about his relations—Ella asked him whether he had a sister or brother, and he replied in a voice suddenly filled with emotion: “I had a sister when I left home, but whether she is living or not, I am not able to say, but I hope she lives.”

“Yes, she may be living yet, for all you know,” commented Ella. “You may meet her again before you die.”

“If I could only hope such a thing,” said the doctor feelingly. “If I could only hope to meet her again, my cup of joy would be filled to overflowing.”

“Well, Doctor, when do you suppose my dear Willie will be able to go to the Springs? For he will have to go now.”

“I hardly know when, Ella, but I think not before the first of September.”

“I will be glad if he can go then and stay a month, for it will soon bring his health back to him.”

“Oh yes, I don’t think his health will be very greatly impaired nohow, for he always was a strong healthy young man.”

“I never was more baffled in my life.”

This was Kent speaking to Dr. Maltby, for he was in the room too. “No sir, I never was baffled in my life before this time, and I would still hold out that this is Al King, if there were not so many persons to differ with.”

“They must know, for they have seen both and so have I—and the name explains everything that there is to explain.”

“You are right there, Doctor, for his other clothes is marked as well as the shirt. He must have been a prudent young man and a careful one.”

“I think he will recover rapidly if he is well attended—I can’t tell exactly at present, but I will tell in a few days.”

“Doctor, I know you will do all you can,” said Ella, taking up the conversation. “And I will never know how to thank you when he gets well, which I hope will be soon. For it pains me to see him in such misery—for he must be in misery.”

“Miss Ella says she is going to stay constantly near him until he gets well,” said Kent, addressing the doctor.

“Yes, I said so, and I’ll never go back on my word—not as much as I love him.”

“Kent, she is not ashamed to confess love for him—she tells the truth without a single blush,” said the doctor laughingly.

“Yes, indeed, she often does that, and if the old saying is true she has a chance to prove her love for him.”

“To what old saying do you allude?” the doctor asked in his usual low tone.

“Oh, you know—‘the course of true love never runs smooth,’” answered Kent.

“Oh, you are just like a lot of prophets, indeed you are!” exclaimed Ella, trying to hide a smile that was creeping on her face.

“Well, Mr. Kent, tell us something about your family to while away the time,” said Dr. Maltby. “I like to hear anyone talk of their family, although I have never had one.” Here the doctor sighed.

Kent studied awhile, and then said:

“I will tell you a story on one condition, and no other.”

“Name your condition, and we will certainly adhere to it,” said Ella and the doctor at once.

“My condition is, you are not to let anyone know anything—you are not to tell your best and most confidential friend until I give you leave. Do you hear?”

“Yes, we heard ever word you said, so go on.”

“If you heard, I want you to heed.”

“All right, Mr. Kent, we will heed, just so as you tell us a story of your home.”

Kent was going to start his story at once, but Mattie came in and it was postponed for a while. “How is your patient, Doctor?” inquired Mattie, as she took a seat.

“Well, he is pretty sick now—he has a very high fever, but I guess it will subside before morning—if it continues until morning, look out for the brain fever.”

“You think he will have the brain fever if his fever continues until morning?”

“Yes, I will not deceive you. I think—yes, I know he will have it if his fever continues until tomorrow morning,” replied the doctor positively in answer to Ella’s anxious inquiry in regard to the fever.

“Well, Miss Mattie, you are looking well and as sweet as a peach,” resumed the doctor. “Some of the boys will be coming to see you soon. I expect Hugh Walters will be one of them.” A hearty laugh was all the reply he got. Mattie soon left the room, and the detective went on with his story. We will give our Readers a copy of it in a more convenient season, and in a way they will never dream of hearing it.

For the present, we will decline revealing what he had to say. Let it suffice for us to say that at the conclusion he said:

“I have a wife and four children to support. I left them in Harlem^[1] well provided for and I hear from them often, and if I live and keep my health, I want to clear up all secrets connected with this place and return home in about two months.” The two listeners wished him good speed and also good luck in obtaining a good sum of money for revealing the “Secrets of Brookland.” Kent said he would go out again reconnoitering, and he soon started off, leaving Ella and the doctor with the young man.

“Well, Doctor, Kent is a smart man, a keen-witted man, and he is playing a deep game,” commented Ella after Kent had left.

“You may well say he is a smart and keen-witted man, for he is certainly one of the keenest and quietest men I ever saw,” responded the doctor, not taking the trouble to say “the most quiet,” for he was studying about something more important than verbs or adverbs.

“I hope he’ll succeed in his undertakings, Doctor, for he is such a kind man,” said Ella.

“I’ll bet he’ll prove a trump in the end of his novel career,” was the doctor[’s] response. “If he don’t, I am greatly mistaken.”

“Who would have thought of such dreadful things as he told us about—someone whose name I need not mention,” said Ella wonderingly.

“Well, he is a keen man, and he has got on the right track of the parties concerned,” responded the doctor readily.

The sick man began turning restlessly and muttering, “Foiled! Foiled! Foiled!” all the time. No one could account for his words, for they didn’t take much notice of them, as they knew he was out of his natural mind.

The doctor ordered ice put to his burning temples, so accordingly a piece of ice was put in a hog bladder and laid on his temples. It had the desired effect, for it soon quieted him and stopped his muttering.

“Well, I must be going soon, for it is getting late,” said the doctor. “Follow my directions to the dot, for if you don’t do it, I will know directly after I come in the morning.”

“All right, Doctor, they shall be followed to the very dot,” replied Ella. “Never fear, I shall attend regularly to every direction.”

“See that you do, for he must be well taken care of, or you will lose him, and I know you don’t want to do that.”

“I will do my best for his welfare, Doctor,” said Ella as the doctor went out.

The doctor went quietly downstairs, and after bidding the host and hostess good-day, he took his leave. As he mounted his horse he said, “I will be out early tomorrow morning—until that time, au revoir.”

He rode swiftly to Winchester, and after seeing his horse attended to, he went in and had a little chat with Mrs. King. He came out of her parlor and went down the street a piece, but soon returned to his office. He took a seat near the window, and taking up a volume of some sort, he was going to read some, when the door was suddenly darkened by an opaque body of some sort. He glanced and saw to his great joy and surprise the jolly Son of Erin, who had brought him ne{ws} of his love, his only love, about two month{s} previous. He was too overjoyed to speak for some time.