own until he had acquainted Mr. Galbraith
with Janoah's accusations. The misgivings, the suspicions, the fears
he entertained must be cleared up at any cost or further residence
beneath Willie's roof would be impossible. If necessary he would go to
New York to see the financier. But he must know where the blame for
Snelling's treachery lay, whether with the capitalist or with his
employee. Accordingly he arose early, and having breakfasted went down
to the store where the nearest telephone was and called up the
Belleport residence. He was fortunate in getting Parker, the old
butler, on the wire.

"Mr. Galbraith, Mr. Bob?" came the voice of the servant. "Yes, sir, he
arrived home last night. I think he is going over to Wilton to-day to
see you. I heard him saying something about it. Wait a minute. I
hear him on the stairs now."

There was a pause; then after a delay another voice that Bob instantly
recognized to be that of the master of the house called:

"Bob? Well, hello, boy! I guess you thought we had all left you and
your affairs high and dry, didn't you? I've been in New York, you
know--am just back. I want to see you as soon as I can about several
important matters. Suppose I run over in the car this morning? Will
you be there? Good! I'll see you later, then."

Robert Morton hung up the receiver and walked meditatively along the
sandy road to the gray cottage. The die was cast. Whatever happened,
it could not be worse than had been the days of suspense and anxiety
that he had endured.

The morning was close and humid, a land breeze wafting across the
fields perfumes of sun-scorched pine and blossoming roses. Scarce a
ripple marred the glittering surface of the bay that stretched like a
sheet of burnished brass as far as one could see. Now and then a faint
zephyr, rising from the wooded slopes, swept down the hill, swirling
into billows of vivid emerald the coarse salt grass that swayed on the
marshes. So still it was that every whisper of the surf lapping the
edge of the bar could be heard; over and over the waters stole up on
the shore, fretted into foam and receded, each wave creeping
rhythmically back into the deep to a song of shifting sand and pebbles.
How silvery the tiny houses of the hamlet looked against the azure of
the sky! The few scattered trees that had braved the onslaughts of
repeated gales listed landward, but the pines sheltered in the hollows
of the dunes stood erec