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Next, we caused an accurate description of Greenback Bob to be sent to all the gates and different districts, with orders for an instant report of the fact should he be seen, and that once seen he must be constantly shadowed.

Before we left the place we had arranged with Lausch to put a man of our own choosing into the pavilion, whose business it would be to keep constant watch over his people. For while he was ready to vouch for their honesty, we were not; rather, we were not willing to let any possibility of a clue escape us. A second man was placed where he could cultivate these people, and as much as possible outside of business hours. Not that we expected much from this, for we had seen no slightest sign of dishonesty among these people, who seemed to shun all society and to have no acquaintances outside their own pavilion.

After considering long, we decided not to bring the name of Delbras into the case, or to attempt to set any watch upon him in the regular way. To 'locate' Delbras should be our own especial work, and to freshen our memories we reviewed the information furnished our chief by the French commissaire.

So far as was known there was no picture of him extant, and the French report described him about as follows:

'Nationality, French; age, probably about thirty to thirty-three years; height, six feet, or nearly; weight, one hundred and seventy-five pounds, approximate; figure good; square shoulders, military air; features, regular; thin lipped; chin sharply pointed; wears at times heavy beard, at others moustache and goatee; eyes dark, called black; hair same, heavy, and sometimes worn quite long; hands well kept, with long slender fingers; speaks English perfectly, accomplished, etc.; a small triangular scar upon temple close to roots of hair. Known to have been in Paris and London in early winter, and to have crossed to New York about January 1st. Returned to Paris some time in March, and crossed last to New York in early May by steamer Normandie.'

'Well,' had been Dave's comment as we reperused this summary of M. Delbras, 'he may disguise himself in many ways, but he can't change his height very much, nor the colour of his eyes, nor his "regular features"' – Dave's features were not strictly regular, and it was a weakness of his always to resent this descriptive phrase – 'nor his slim fingers, nor the scar on his temple close to the roots of the hair.'

We had spent a long morning in the rooms of the Secret Service Bureau, and as we were about to take leave, with but a step between us and the outer door, it was hastily opened and a guard entered, followed by two people whom I recognised as Farmer and Mrs. Camp. With a backward step and a quick glance at Dave, I turned and deliberately seated myself.

The only occupants of the outer office at the moment of their entry were the officer in command, who had just accompanied us from the inner office, and the subordinate who was in charge of this outer office, where complaints were received and first hearings granted.

I had drawn back quickly, but the eye of Mrs. Camp was still keen, though she looked a trifle subdued.

'The good land!' she ejaculated, catching at her husband's arm. 'Here's one of 'em now, Camp! They've caught him, anyhow!'

The words furnished Dave with a clue to the situation, and he dropped into a chair beside me, and, after one droll look in my direction, gave himself up to a fit of silent mirth.

Meantime the guard had advanced with dignity and announced to the officer at the desk:

'This man has a complaint to bring, sir.'

'Wait!' It was Mrs. Camp, standing determinedly near the door of entrance, who spoke. 'Afore you make a complaint, Adam Camp, about a raskil that ain't here, s'pose you jest make sure that this here one that is here in our midst don't git away.'

CHAPTER VI.
A CRIMINAL HUNT

Now, I had told the officer in command my belief and suspicions concerning the counterfeit business which I believed was going on about us, and had been told that two of the counterfeit bills had already been brought to his notice and captured within the week; and Dave had insisted upon his hearing the story of my absurd arrest by the guards, and now it only needed a look from me, and the sight of Dave's convulsed face, to make the situation plain to him. He stepped forward, but before he could speak a new thought had darted into Dame Camp's active mind.

'La!' she finished, 'I s'pose, come to think, he's been brought here now to be tried, ain't he?'

With the shadow of a smile upon his face, the officer turned toward the farmer.

'What is your complaint?' he asked courteously; and he shot me a glance which I knew meant, 'Let him tell his own story.' And now, being authorized to speak, Farmer Camp began to tell, in his own homely way, the story of the 'greenback swindle,' as he termed it. When he had reached the point in the narrative where I made my unlucky attempt to rout the swindlers, he turned toward me.

'I've had an idee sence, though my wife didn't agree with me much' – here came an audible sniff from Mrs. Camp – 'that this here young man might 'a' meant well, after all, and we wus a little mite hasty; but, ye see, he'd been a-lookin' at us so long, an' my wife'd been a-noticin' it, havin' her mind kind o' sot like on confidence people and sech, that she felt kind o' oneasy at his sharp looks – they wus so keen, she said, an' so quick to look away, she got nervous, and said she felt as if he wus a-lookin' right inter my pockets.'

'There now, Camp, you needn't be a-excusin' me! I stick ter my idee. Anyone can see that the young feller ain't innocent, else somebody'd 'a' spoke fur him, fust off – '

Here Dave exploded audibly, and the officer checked her with a motion of his hand.

'Let me settle this point at once by telling you, madam, that the gentleman you have accused is an officer high in his profession, and sent here to protect the public and look after criminals. He had but just arrived, and it was because of this that he was without his officer's badge, which would at once have put those men to rout had it been worn and displayed to them. Let me tell you now, to prevent further mistakes, that the detectives upon whom we rely in greatest emergencies are always to be found in citizen's clothes, and they are not likely to display a badge, except when necessary.'

Long before the end of this speech consternation was written all over the face of Adam Camp, but his wife was made of sterner stuff, and when her better half had stuttered and floundered half through a sufficiently humble apology, directed, of course, toward myself, she broke in upon his effort, no whit abashed:

'There, Camp, it's easy enough ter see how we came ter make sech a mistake, and I'm sure the young man will bear no malice to'ard a couple of folks old enough ter be his parients. 'Twas them sharp-lookin' eyes that set me ter noticin' ye, when you was lookin' over Camp fust off, down to the Administration Building, and when you went an' sot down on the settee by him, an' then got up an' followed us so fur, what was I to think? You was a-watchin' us sure enough, only you meant well by it. But, land sakes! in sech a place, where everybody is tryin' to look out fur number one, I did what looked my dooty. I'm willin' to ask yer pardon, though, and I ain't goin' ter bear no malice.'

Overwhelmed by this magnanimity, I murmured my thanks and complete satisfaction with her amende honorable, and tried to turn the occasion to such profit as might be by questioning the man a little.

'You were saying that you changed a bill, or were about to do so. Did the man make any difficulty after I left you?'

'No, sir. He seemed in a kind of a hurry, and made out to be onsartin whether he could spare so much small money, as he called it. But finally he counted out a roll of bills, and had me count them after him.'

'There – in the crowd where you stood?'

'Wal, no. He took us to one side a little – right in behind the place where the little man was a-sellin' canes – sort of up ag'inst a partition, and there we made the dicker.'

'And he left you right away?' queried the officer in charge.

'Yes – jest about as quick as he could.'

'And the other,' I asked, 'the man who took you to this agent – the man with the large Sabbath-school class?'

'Oh! he asked us to go to the terminus station with him and see his young men; but my wife wanted to see things, and we jest went as fur as the door, out of perliteness.'

'And when did you discover that you had been swindled?'

'Wal, M'riar wanted to ride in one of them coopy things with a man-hoss behind and before; and when she got ready to get out, which was purty soon, I give one of them fellers a two-dollar soovyneer bill, but they made a great jabbering about it, and M'riar says, says she, "I guess they ain't got the change;" so I fished out some pennies, and a dime and two postage stamps, and after a bit they tuk 'em and waddled off. Then we got to lookin' up and down, and we didn't have no more 'casion to use money – M'riar was so busy seein' the folks and their clo's – till we got hungry, and then come the rumpus. When I come to pay the bill, they was a reg'lar howl, an' we come mighty near bein' marched off to the calaboose, same's you was. They said the bill I offered 'em first off, an' all the rest, was counterfeit.'

Until now Brainerd had taken no part in the dialogue; but now, with a quick glance in my direction, he asked;

'Will you describe the man who gave you the money – the supposed agent?'

Camp pondered. 'Wal,' he began, 'he was tall, 's much as six foot, I should say, an' his eyes were black an' big. His hair was consid'able long, and he had a good deal of it on his face in a big bushy moustache. He had a slim nose – and he wore a big di'mond on his little finger.'

'Did you notice his hands?'

'M – no.'

'Wal, I did!' interposed his wife. 'I seen the di'mond, ef 'twas a di'mond. His hands was white – real white, 'long side of his face, and they looked like reg'lar claws; sech long fingers and pointed nails.'

'Ah!' Dave shot me a glance full of meaning. 'Now, Mrs. Camp, you seem a very observing woman. Will you describe the other man – the gentleman with the Sabbath-school class?'

The woman's head became even more erect, and her look more firm and confident than before. 'Yes,' she said at once; 'I can.' She cast her eyes about her, and, seeing a vacant chair near her interlocutor – the one lately vacated by myself – she seated herself deliberately, and began:

'He wasn't much to look at; about as big as you, mebbe, and about the same complected as that gentleman,' pointing to the sergeant at the desk, 'only his nose was longer, and sort of big and nobby at the end, an' a leetle red. I remember he had bigger ears than common, too; they sort of set straight out. His eyes were little, and a sort of watery gray, and his hair was kind of thin and sandy-like. He had some little mutton-chop whiskers, and a little hair, a'most tan-colour, on his upper lip. His mouth was quite big, and I noticed he had two front teeth with gold fillin' into 'em. He had gloves on his hands when we see him first, but when we met him afterward they was off.'

'Afterward, you say – did you meet him after you had discovered that you had been swindled?' I broke in.

'Yes – we – '

'You see,' broke in Adam Camp, 'it was this way: we was comin' out of Midway, for we'd been out a'most to the end a-seein' the sights, an' when we got hungry we went into a place a blue-coat said was good, the Vienny Caffy, he called it. Well, it was there we had the fuss about the money, and they told us to come here right away and make a complaint. We started, and was jest comin' past that menagerie place, when M'riar wanted to stop jest afore the place and look at the big lion over the door.'

'A live one,' interpolated M'riar.

'Yes, a live one. Well, standin' there, all to once I see that Sunday-school feller come out o' the door a pickin' his teeth. He was right in front of me, and at first he seemed not to see me, and was hurryin' off dretful fast, but I caught on to his arm and says, quick-like: "Look here; I want to tell you somethin' fer your own good and to swap favers." Then he sort of slowed up, and axed me to pardin him – he was in haste, an' gettin' orful anxious about them boys. Then I says right out, "My friend, I'm anxious too, and you've got cause to be: you an' me's been swindled;" and then he most jumped, and asked, "How swindled?" "Hev you broke one of them two-dollar bills yit?" says I. "No," says he; an' then I up an' told him the hull story.'

'Did you tell him you were coming here?' I asked, as he paused a moment.

'No, because he got so excited and talked so fast; I declare, he put it all out of my head.'

Again he stopped, as if loth to continue, but again Mrs. Camp took up the parable.

'Now, father, yer may jest as well out with it! Ye see, this chap flew all to pieces, so to speak, an' he was goin' to have a officer right away. He had a letter of interducshun from his minister to home to the capt'in of the Columbine perleece – they was related somehow – and he would jest have them men arrested; an' then he happened ter think that 'twas gittin' late and time a'most for that train with them Sunday-school children to come, and it put him out awfully; but he said that he'd make it his bizness to see to that, and then he made a 'p'intment with Camp to meet him at half-past ten ter-day, an' they'd go tergether ter see the Columbine perleeceman.' She paused, and uttered a cackling laugh. 'Wal,' she concluded, 'Camp see that 'twas gittin' purty late, so he 'greed to it; an' I didn't say nothin', but arter he'd gone ter meet them boys ag'in I put my foot down ter come here fust, an' not to wait till mebbe the feller'd git away, and finally Camp reckoned 'twould be best, and so we came. Someway that feller sort o' went ag'in' me, to'rds the last. I don't want to be hasty ag'in, but I sort o' feel as if he might be kind o' tricky, 's well's the rest.'

It did not take us long to convince the Camps that they had been duped all round, and while we had little faith in their ever seeing the 'Sunday-school feller' again, we obtained their promise to keep their appointment with him; and here Dave Brainerd suddenly muttered an excuse to the two officers, and said in my ear, 'If I am not back in fifteen minutes meet me at the Administration at four sharp.' And with a nod to the Camps he went hastily out. I felt very sure of his errand. He had fancied, like myself, that 'Smug,' fearing lest the Camps might prove too clever for his wiles – perhaps suspecting the keen-eyed old woman – had followed them in order to assure himself whether it would be safe to keep his latest appointment with them, and this indeed proved to be the case.

Before the Camps left the place we had easily convinced them that their 'Sunday-school friend' and not I, had been the 'confidence man,' and that if he kept this last appointment with them it would only be to lure them into another trap, and a worse one, for it would have for its aim the suppression of any and all evidence they might have been inclined to give to the 'perleece.'

In convincing the gentle old man, and shattering his faith in my friend Smug, I could see that we had dealt his simple, kindly nature a real blow, but Mother Camp was of sterner stuff.

'You needn't worrit about me, not now,' she assured me, with a vigorous nod. 'After gitten' into one trap I ain't a-goin' to tumble into any more, an' I ain't goin' ter let him, neither, not when I'm on hand. I've told that man, more times 'n I've got fingers an' toes, that he was too soft-hearted; allus feedin' tramps 'n' stray dawgs, an' swallerin' all the beggars' yarns.'

'I guess ye needn't worrit, M'riar,' the old man said, with a faint show of spirit. 'Things might 'a' been worst. I didn't aim ter squander a hundred dollars to one lick, but I've got'n nuff left yit ter see the Fair an' git home on, so I guess we may as well be a-seein' it; a body hes to live, live an' larn.'

And with this sentiment the pair took their departure, a little the wiser, and more wary, perhaps, for the words of warning and advice given them by the officer in charge, who had taken their names and address, and made a memorandum of their 'complaint.'

He had smiled slightly when told their street and number, and had remarked that at least Stony Island Avenue had the merit of nearness, adding the friendly caution, 'Don't make boarding-house acquaintances, good people, and keep on the bright side of the way in going home late.' Whereupon I made a mental note to investigate this same hardly-named avenue.

Long before the end of the Fair I had cause to thank myself for this mental note, and that it was held in remembrance.

Brainerd did not appear at the stipulated time, and I was too eager to be out in full sight of that wonder city to remain at the bureau; so taking the Intramural Railway at the nearest station I began to circle in and out among those marvels of genius, skill, and nineteenth century enterprise which, combined, had placed, in a time so short as to seem a miracle, this city of beauty beside the blue Lake Michigan.

And now I began to ask myself why the visitor who had nothing to do but to see this wonder of wonders, and had no need to keep one eye upon the passing faces, did not see it, at least until it grew familiar from that point of view, from a seat in an Intramural.

What a kaleidoscopic panorama! In taking my place I had not even noticed the direction in which I was moving. I had been seeing such a marvel of glimpses, domes, roofs, the lagoon in the distance, a flashing glimpse of the lake through glittering, airy turrets, trees, statues, flags – beauty and charm everywhere. I had taken a round-trip ticket, and I whirled on and on, until somehow I saw the great glass dome of the Horticultural Building, and a moment later a fleeting view of Midway recalled to my mind my own personality and interests. As I gazed at it, stretching away westward, a veritable Joseph's coat of a street, it was gone, and I saw the tall dome of Illinois, the Art Gallery in the distance, with the lagoon again gleaming through trees, to be lost again, while roofs, windows, vistas of streets surrounded me, and I could peep in at the windows we were passing; and then I heard the cry of the guard, and noted the name as we slacked speed at Mount Vernon Station, almost upon the roof of the Old Virginia Building. I peered out as we drew up to this station in the air, and drew back a little as a second train, moving in the opposite direction, dashed by. I am in the rear car, and as we move away from Mount Vernon, suddenly I have a vision of someone who must have flung himself from the forward car at the last moment, and who is running along the platform, and in the direction of the passing train, in breathless haste, his head bare, his hat clutched in his swinging hand.

It is Dave Brainerd, and as we tear around a curve and he is lost to my sight, I am brought back to thoughts of business. Dave has evidently 'struck a trail.' Wondering much, I stop at the north loop, and standing with the Government Building to my right and the Fisheries with its curving colonnades on my left, I gaze off upon the blue and shining waters of the lake, and realize fully for the first time the awful incongruity between all this stateliness and beauty and our mission in its midst – a criminal hunt!

CHAPTER VII.
'IT WAS GREENBACK BOB.'

Our chief had arranged for us, and in advance of our arrival, that our letters should be received at the bureau, where a desk was always at our disposal; and a little before four o'clock I dropped in once more to look for letters and ask if Dave had made a second appearance. The letters were in waiting for both of us, but there was no news of Dave, and, stowing the letters in my pocket, I sought once more the Court of Honour; seating myself near the great MacMonnies Fountain, in the shade of the Administration Building, where Dave could not fail to find me, to read my letters and wait for him.

I was in no haste, with that magnificent court spread out before me, and the blue dancing waves of Lake Michigan in the distance, Nature's background for the great Peristyle, surmounted by that novel and beautiful Columbus quadriga, in itself a work of art such as is seldom seen, and with golden Justice, dominant and serene, commanding and overlooking all.

Forgetting my letters, I let my eyes wander slowly from point to point of beauty, letting the moments pass unheeded.

'Fine figure of a woman, eh?'

I started, and came suddenly down to earth, at the sound of one of my friend's characteristic speeches. He was standing beside me, as imperturbable of countenance as usual, but looking somewhat blown; and he dropped upon the bench, and stretched his legs, and pulled off his hat, like a weary man who means to enjoy a little well-earned rest.

I knew him too well to display any curiosity, and I merely sorted out from the bundle of letters still unopened in my hand those bearing his name, and laid them upon his knee, and with merely a nod and smile, by way of greeting, addressed myself to my own.

The first was a brief business document; the next a schoolboy's letter, short, of course, from a young brother, my sole living tie and charge. The third was from our chief, and I saw, upon opening it, that it was addressed, within, to both of us.

'Dave,' I ventured, 'may I interrupt?'

'You can't,' he replied. 'I've done. They're of no consequence,' and he thrust the two missives I had given him into his loose side-pocket. 'Blaze away, boy.'

The letter was not long, and, after some minor instructions and some suggestions, came this passage:

'"I wonder if either of you remembers the case of the Englishman who wrote us at much length some six months ago concerning his son, 'lost or missing' – we did not succeed in finding him in New York – "'

'And small wonder,' chuckled Dave, whose memory was a storehouse. 'We hadn't even the skeleton of a description.'

'"In New York, you remember,"' I read on, '"and it has seemed to me that you may as well look out for him in your intervals of leisure, if there are such."'

'Old man's growing sarcastic,' grumbled my friend.

'"It's a good thing, if successful,"' I continued; '"and the Fair is the best place in the world for a 'hide out.' If the young fellow's above-ground I'll wager something he's in Chicago now; that is, if he really did come to America a year ago, as his fond father (?) writes. I enclose for your further information his letter; and I would be proud of the fact if you two fellows could unearth him at the Columbian City. I give you carte blanche for the case."'

'Umph! That means roll up your sleeves and go in.'

I took up the copy of the Englishman's letter. 'Shall I read it?' I asked, 'or is it – '

'Don't say "engraven on your memory,"' implored Dave. 'Yes – go ahead.'

'"Dundalk House,

'"January 3, 1893.

'"Messrs. – .

'"Gentlemen, – On November 6th, in the year 1892, Carroll L. Rae, Esq., of Dundalk House, left his home, ostensibly for a few days in London. He was never seen again at Dundalk, and we have been accurately informed that he sailed for America in that same month. Being of age, he drew from his bankers while in London one thousand pounds, the full amount deposited to his credit; since that time no trace of him has been found.

'"Carroll L. Rae is twenty-six years of age, and tall, lacking one-half inch of being six feet in height. He is slender, broad-shouldered, upright; fair skin, blue eyes, brown hair; features regular and refined; hair worn very short, but inclined to curl close to skull; strong in athletic sports; a graduate of Queen's College; has small, aristocratic feet and hands; a skilled horseman; sings a fine and unusually high tenor; has a singularly strong control over all animals. We have no portrait of him since childhood. Has strong leaning toward military life and somewhat literary tendencies. Am prepared to send blank cheque for the payment of expenses of thorough search, and add as reward when found two thousand pounds. Address all correspondence to

'"Sir Hugo Rae,

'"Dundalk House, Egham,

'"Surrey."'

'Umph!' broke out Brainerd, when I had read the last word. 'Typical old English paterfamilias! Tyrannical, I'll be bound. I'll bet something the young fellow ran away from parental tyranny. How did the thing come out at the first attempt? I don't seem to recall it.'

'And for a good reason. You were in Canada, and I was occupied with that Rockville murder. I think they put Sturgis on the case. English himself, you know.'

'Yes – well?'

'Well, as nearly as I remember, Sturgis advertised, to begin, "something to his advantage," etc.'

'Of course!' contemptuously.

'This failed, and he made the tour of the hotels, swell places first, then going down in the scale, hunted the registers; haunted the places most affected by the English tourist; halted good-looking, or English-looking, blond young men until they turned on him. In fact, tried all the dodges – and failed.'

'Of course! It's one thing to find a person who has been hidden, and quite another to search for one who hides himself. What do you think has set the chief to looking this lost son up here, and through us?'

'Why, you know his ways – he seldom stops to explain; but I fancy he may have heard again from Sir Hugo Rae.'

I took up the two sheets, and was about to thrust them into their envelope, when Brainerd suddenly said:

'Hold on, boy! there's something written across the back of that copied letter.'

I turned it over and read the half-dozen lines written thereon:

'"Carroll Rae, if found, is to be told at once that his brother, Sir Hugo, is dead."'

'Oh!' ejaculated Brainerd; 'so it's not his father. Well, that alters things. We may be able to find a Sir Carroll Rae, especially as he must have about exhausted that thousand pounds if he has been doing the States in true English style.'

'At any rate,' I added, 'it's on our books. I suppose one may keep an eye out for a swell young Englishman here as well as elsewhere. It's only one more face in the crowd.'

'And that reminds me,' said my friend. 'This business almost put it out of my head. I took a turn on that Intramural road this afternoon.'

'Yes?' I knew better than to interrupt at this point.

'And I saw, I am sure I saw – whom do you think?'

'Dave, that's like a woman! I'm surprised at you. You saw Delbras.'

'Wrong! I saw, I'm certain of it, Greenback Bob.'

'Good!'

'He was dressed very swell – you might have mistaken him for one of the board of directors; but it was Bob.'

'And you piped him home, of course?' I queried.

'Of course I didn't. He was going one way, and I the other, each on an Intramural car.'

'Oh! and you were running to stop the car, and Bob, when I saw you at Mount Vernon Station,' I said wickedly; 'did you overtake it?'

'I did – just.'

'And Bob?' eagerly.

'Well,' with a grin, 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, but when I jumped on board, at the last moment, I found that Bob had got off while I got on. In fact, I saw him going downstairs as I was borne away to Fifty-seventh Street. There, boy, don't look so mournful; it's all in the game. I couldn't find a trace of him; but we know he's here.'

I had decided on the night of my arrival, after pondering late the adventure of the black bag, or, as I now described it to myself, Miss Jenrys' bag, upon my course of action concerning it.

In her letter to her friend she had mentioned the entrance at Fifty-seventh Street as being near their place of abode, and I had promised myself that I would be early at that gate to watch for the coming of Miss Jenrys, and to restore her property – what else?

But I had not counted upon a diamond robbery at the very beginning of my World's Fair adventures, and as I wished to go unaccompanied, I did not attempt to stand guard at evening.

But the second morning saw me at an early hour alone, and so near the gate at Fifty-seventh Street that I could in no possible way miss the lady should she appear.

I had not needed to avoid Dave. He had been prompt to tell me that he meant to put in the day looking for Greenback Bob, and that he should 'do his looking' upon Midway.

'And why Midway?' I had asked him.

'Because, if there's a place that is better than all other places in which to hide one's self, that place is the Midway.'

It was quite true; and as I made my way toward the northern entrance, I turned over in my mind an idea suggested, or revived, by Dave's last words.

As I passed toward the entrance between the unique little house of South Dakota on one side and hospitable and home-like Nebraska State Building on the other, my gaze was caught by the restfulness and charm of the western façade of the latter, with its broad portico and the little lawn lying between the broad steps facing the western boundary of the grounds, the little stream flowing under overhanging trees of nature's own planting, and past the little natural arbour of climbing vines draping themselves among the branches, making shade and coolness for the groups loitering underneath upon the rustic seats scattered freely and inviting all.

While I gazed, a voice close behind me said, in a wheedling drawl:

'Dew come in! You never saw sech a place! Why, upstairs beats this all out of sight. Sech parlours, with velvet chairs, and sofys, and a pianer; I tell ye Nebrasky beats some o' them stuck-up Eastern States!'

I turned, to see a fat, rosy-faced and eager woman, in the defiant bonnet I have learned to know as from 'out west,' piloting a lean and reluctant woman, quite as typical as a rural New Englander, through the gate of the inclosure; and, prompted doubtless by the words I had just heard, I took another and more extended survey of the building so justly extolled, this time lifting my eyes to the upper window and the balcony overhanging the stream.

Was it a mere passing resemblance, or a fancied one, or was the face I saw for just an instant at one of those upper windows the face of the little brunette adventuress who had laid claim to Miss Jenrys' bag? If so, she had been scanning the increasing crowd through an opera-glass, and had dropped this in seeming haste, and vanished, before I could prolong my glance.