All present listened in profound silence.

“I started for Chicago—you know when, and reached ther[e] on Thursday evening—found a boarding house, and also I rented a room and began life in Chicago as if I intended staying there for a young lifetime. I did not stay there any longer than the ninth of April, for there was a number of young men going to the gold mines in California, and I joined them, went with them to the gold mines, and made my fortune.

“We had a great deal of trouble with the Indians—but we surmounted them all.^[1] I found a gold mine in which there was a great deal of gold—I was with Fred Morton then—Fred and I were staying together. The other boys had ‘fell out’ with us so we were wandering over the plains of the far, far West with no guide—Fred and I were good friends from the first. Well, this mine we found proved to be our deliverer. We had been out there a good long while, and were getting pretty tired of the gold mining business, when we found this vein of gold.

“We sat to work in good earnest as soon as we found it. We had been working at it about two weeks when an old gentleman—a gold hunter—came upon us. He looked into our mine and then offered to buy it. We were willing to sell out—especially our Red Brothers’^[2] ground—so we sat down to bargain.

“After about an hour’s talk, we effected a bargain with the old man—he agreed to give us one hundred thousand dollars each. We kept on until we got him to give each of us double the sum he first offered. Well, he gave us two hundred thousand each, and we took all the gold we had dug—which, by the way, was a right good ‘lot.’ We the[n] ‘set sail’ for Chicago, where I parted with my friend and started for my old Virginia home. Fred is as rich as he ought to be. He is married now—he married before I left Chicago, for I stayed there two weeks before I started home. I chose my present garb to insure my life, generally speaking.”

“What became of your other men?” inquired Ella. “Did they get rich too?”

“I could not tell you what became of them, for I have not saw or heard anything of them since we parted,” answered Willie.

“So you are a rich man. Your friend Fred ought to come to see you sometime,” said Ella. “I suppose you will go to see him after you get your business all fixed.”

“Yes, I intend to see him before another six months shall pass away,” replied Willie.

Dr. Maltby was seen coming down the lane in his buggy. He soon drove up beside the porch, and with an air of surprise he said half inquiringly: “You all not gone yet? Why, what is the matter? Hello! Where is my patient? Has he got worse and gone to bed?”

“Well, Doctor, to speak expressively, your patient has gone to happier hunting grounds. He stacked his arm and fled,” asserted William in a half jocose voice.

“Has he ran away?” asked the doctor. “I don’t know your name, sir,” added he, addressing William. “May I have the honor of knowing with whom I am talking?”

“You may, sir, if you call it honor—you are addressing William G. Reed, or at least, I have always been known by that name,” asserted William proudly.

“You, William G. Reed? Impossible! Why, Willie has been here for two months, sir. You are an imposter, if I judge aright.”

“You were greatly mistaken, Doctor, for you have been attending Albert King for two months. I am certainly known by the name you mentioned, but I would not swear that I am William Reed—I may be someone else, for all I know,” said William assuringly. “All of those people you see here were doing their best to drive me away a while ago, but I stood my ground like a man. Come, Doctor, ain’t you going to shake a friend’s hand?” William ended his paragraph in an inquiry as he extended the member above mentioned—to the doctor.

“Certainly, Willie, I will do so with the greatest pleasure,” said the doctor as he shook the young man’s hand. “I am glad—very glad—to see you, my dear boy.”

A shadow of doubt gathered in the doctor’s mind as he thought of the clothes which the Ash Hollow gentleman was found in.

“Look here, young man, I want an explanation about those clothes,” said the doctor, eyeing William suspiciously. “Your name, or at least the name of ‘William G. Reed,’ was on the clothes. He also had on the low-quartered shoes I bought for you, or at least, I advised you to buy them.” The doctor kept a close eye upon William all the time he was speaking. A smile of satisfaction played upon William’s features as he said:

“I can easily do that. I can easily explain all your suspicion away.” He then related all about the stolen clothes in as few words as possible. At the conclusion, he said, “Now I have freed you from all doubts and I am free from suspicion.”

“Yes, and I thank you for your information, for it was very valuable to me as I wish to tell Mrs. King a true story when I get home,” asserted Dr. Maltby. “I’ll bid you all au revoir, for I must go,” added the doctor, as he suited action to his word.

Arriving at his office, he had his horse attended to and then went in to break the news he had gathered to Mrs. King.

“Mrs. King, I have come with some news for you at last,” said he as he took a seat.

“Good or bad news, Doctor?” inquired Mrs. King.

“Well, good news in one way, and at the same time, bad the other way,” said the doctor. “You must take all quietly, for I think you will see your son before long.”

“Does the news concern my son?” hastily inquired the lady. “If so, tell me quick!”

“Be easy now, as the Irishmen always say, be ’asy as ye can an’ I will be as brief as I can. The young man we have been nursing so long at Brookland is your Albert and he has ran away again, for William—the real William—came home this morning,” said the doctor.

“He has ran away again? Oh my God!” groaned Mrs. King. “I have always had a great deal of trouble since I left home!”

“Hope for the best, Mrs. King,” said the doctor consolingly. “I think he has got his fill of running around and he will be home in a few days. They have forgiven him all.” The doctor meant to tell her all about the detective, but he remembered his promise and refrained [from] doing so.

“If he comes soon, I will leave Virginia and never set foot on its soil anymore, for I have never had nothing but trouble since here I have been,” said Mrs. King. “How came you to make a mistake in his identity, Doctor?” inquired she after a few moments’ silence.

“Well, his face was so badly scarred as to render identification entirely out of the question, so we all went—or more properly—we were all guided by the name on the clothes,” replied the doctor.

The conversation ended upon that subject, for it was a subject that was disagreeable—both to the doctor and Mrs. King. Time slipped away. A week passed, and this is the way Kent had planned for his party and grand finale.

He had persuaded them to have a large party in honor of William’s arrival. So after gaining their consent, both by their agreeing to the party and also for him to invite as many to the party as he wished, he issued invitations all around. To Mrs. King and family, Mr. Armstead and family, &c., &c. He also sent a special invitation to a gentleman, his wife and daughter, who were boarding at the Taylor Hotel.^[3] He sent special invitations to those three. His motive will be fully understood before this narrative comes to a close. The party was to be on Friday night the 21st of September; this was the 10th, so he had plenty of time to mature his plans for the grand finale.

Another week passed before he had matured his plans, for he intended acting a part in the finale, so he wanted to be experienced in his part, so as not to make a blunder.

Hasty preparations were also being made to move. There was [sic] five families all going to Boston, Massachusetts. All the people of Brookland were expecting to go. Will they all go away from Brookland alive? We shall see.

William had spoken many a word of love to Ella during this quiet interval. He was now reaping the benefits of his untiring energy in the pursuit of wealth and happiness.

Herbert had also spoken many a word of love. He had not set the time for their marriage, but he had almost matured all his other plans. This morning of the sixteenth of September, he and his betrothed were sitting side by side on the porch chatting away as fast as they could—

“Bertie, our party will soon come off,” said Mattie. The two last words are common among the Virginians, as they are handy and expressive words.

“Let[’s] see,” said Herbert. “This is Sunday. Why, it will come off next Friday night. That is the time Kent is to—”

Herbert left his sentence unfinished.

“What were you going to say, Bertie?” inquired Mattie, for she noticed his sudden stop and the nervous twitching of his face.

“I say that is to be the last pleasure for Kent in Virginia—for Kent or any of us—for we will all go about the last of this month.” The young man fixed up a good answer for his betrothed, for it quietened all curiosity on her part. William and his adored came out on the porch for a chat, a quiet chat.

“Let’s all take a walk up the lane,” suggested Ella. Her suggestion proved to be a good one, for they all took a walk up the lane. The weather was still good, but the air was quite cool. The people of Brookland were expecting an equinoctial gale^[4] about the twentieth of the month, so all the flour and wheat was gotten out of the mill. The girls, or young ladies, and their lovers went to church on that Sunday and spent a pleasant day.

Kent spent the day very pleasantly too. He went to see Mrs. Barton and stayed a long while at her house. In truth, he felt sorry for her. He knew more of her former life than she ever dreamed he knew.

Monday morning came and the people of Brookland were astir early.

The equinoctial clouds were faintly visible in the Western horizon. They were very small—yet they were indicative of a heavy storm. The small creeks in Virginia swell as large as rivers in the time of those equinoctial storms. This was what the people of Brookland were expecting. Some of them said the old mill was sure to be washed away in this particular storm, as it was only a frame building and it was very old.

Sowers had made many a dollar in that old mill. Now it had passed into other hands and was to be torn down and a new and more substantial one built in its site.

About three o’clock Monday evening, Dr. Maltby came by Sowers’. He stopped there a short while and then went on to Winchester. He had his horse attended to and then went in the parlor to have a chat with Mrs. King.

“How are you this evening?” said he as he entered the parlor.

“I am quite well, Doctor. How are you?” said Mrs. King. The doctor was well—always well—so they soon got into an interesting conversation, which lasted near an hour. The doctor was about to leave the room when the door was suddenly darkened. Mrs. King and himself noticed the door was darkened, but before they could turn their heads, a voice from the doorway said plaintively:

“Mother! Forgive me.”