g from it in this world," said he. "I've been thinking
over it, and I know that you were right. It's inscrutable to me, Alice;
I lack that God-given intuition that a woman has for such things. But I
know that you were right, and time and events will justify you."

"You remember that both Mr. Hammer and Mr. Lucas asked Joe and Mrs.
Chase a good deal about a book-agent boarder, Curtis Morgan?" said she.

"Only in the way of incidental questioning," he said. "Why?"

"Don't you remember him? He was that tall, fair man who sold us the
_History of the World_, wasn't he?"

"Why, it is the same name," said the colonel. "He was a man with a quick
eye and a most curious jumble of fragmentary knowledge on many subjects,
from roses to rattlesnakes. Yes, I remember the fellow very well, since
you speak of him."

"Yes. And he had little fair curls growing close to his eyes," said she.
"It's the same man, I'm certain of that."

"Why, what difference does it make?" asked he.

"Not any--in particular--I suppose," she sighed.

The colonel stroked her hair.

"Well, Alice, you're taking this thing too much at heart, anyhow," he
said.

Later that night, long after Joe Newbolt had wearied himself in pacing
up and down his cell, with the glow of his new hope growing brighter as
his legs grew heavier, Alice sat by her window, gazing with fixed eyes
into the dark.

On her lips there was a name and a message, which she sent out from her
heart with all the dynamic intensity of her strong, young being. A name
and a message; and she sped them from her lips into the night, to roam
the world like a searching wind.

CHAPTER XIX

THE SHADOW OF A DREAM

Judge Little was moving about mysteriously. It was said that he had
found track of Isom's heir, and that the county was to have its second
great sensation soon.

Judge Little did not confirm this report, but, like the middling-good
politician that he was, he entered no denial. As long as the public is
uncertain either way, its suspense is more exquisite, the pleasure of
the final revelation is more sweet.

Riding home from the trial on the day that Joe made his appearance on
the witness-stand, Sol Greening fell in with the judge and, with his
nose primed to follow the scent of any new gossip, Sol worked his way
into the matter of the will.

"Well, I hear you've got track of Isom's boy at last, Judge?" said he,
pulling up close beside the judge's mount, so the sound of the ho