If Halsey had only taken me fully into his confidence, through the

whole affair, it would have been much simpler. If he had been

altogether frank about Jack Bailey, and if the day after the fire he

had told me what he suspected, there would have been no harrowing

period for all of us, with the boy in danger. But young people refuse

to profit by the experience of their elders, and sometimes the elders

are the ones to suffer.

I was much used up the day after the fire, and Gertrude insisted on my

going out. The machine was temporarily out of commission, and the

carriage horses had been sent to a farm for the summer. Gertrude

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finally got a trap from the Casanova liveryman, and we went out. Just

as we turned from the drive into the road we passed a woman. She had

put down a small valise, and stood inspecting the house and grounds

minutely. I should hardly have noticed her, had it not been for the

fact that she had been horribly disfigured by smallpox.

"Ugh!" Gertrude said, when we had passed, "what a face! I shall dream

of it to-night. Get up, Flinders."

"Flinders?" I asked. "Is that the horse's name?"

"It is." She flicked the horse's stubby mane with the whip. "He

didn't look like a livery horse, and the liveryman said he had bought

him from the Armstrongs when they purchased a couple of motors and cut

down the stable. Nice Flinders--good old boy!"

Flinders was certainly not a common name for a horse, and yet the

youngster at Richfield had named his prancing, curly-haired little

horse Flinders! It set me to thinking.

At my request Halsey had already sent word of the fire to the agent

from whom we had secured the house. Also, he had called Mr. Jamieson

by telephone, and somewhat guardedly had told him of the previous

night's events. Mr. Jamieson promised to come out that night, and to

bring another man with him. I did not consider it necessary to notify

Mrs. Armstrong, in the village. No doubt she knew of the fire, and in

view of my refusal to give up the house, an interview would probably

have been unpleasant enough. But as we passed Doctor Walker's white

and green house I thought of something.

"Stop here, Gertrude," I said. "I am going to get out."

"To see Louise?" she asked.

"No, I want to ask this young Walker something."

She was curious, I knew, but I did not wait to explain. I went up the

walk to the house, where a brass sign at the side announced the office,

and went in. The reception-room was empty, but from the

consulting-room beyond came the sound of two voices, not very amicable.

"It is an outrageous figure," some one was storming. Then the doctor's

quiet tone, evidently not arguing, merely stating something. But I had

not time to listen to some person probably disputing his bill, so I

coughed. The voices ceased at once: a door closed somewhere, and the

doctor entered from the hall of the house. He looked sufficiently

surprised at seeing me.




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