old Uncle Win! He knew what he would do for me and what
it would mean to me, well enough: as a young fellow, he had been tied
to _his_ Bank!

I spoke tentatively of Sue Paynter, and Roger flushed and struck the
table in his disgusted excitement.

"Good heavens, Jerry--I never once thought----"

Poor Sue! There was nothing more to say.

"The first thing I want you to do for me, Jerry," said Roger, "is to
go through the cottage thoroughly and see if you discover any trace of
who lived here. I've done it, of course, but I'd like to have some one
else do it, too. Go all by yourself, and I won't give you any hint of
my idea, and then we'll compare notes."

Nothing, just then, could have interested me more, and I started
systematically for the cellar steps, lantern in hand.

The first thing that struck me was the trim neatness of this part of
the house, too often--and especially in country districts--neglected.
The steps were firm and clean and nearly dustless, the cement floor
dry and apparently freshly swept, the walls and ceiling well whitened
with lime. Bins of vegetables, a barrel of summer apples, a cask of
vinegar on two trestles with a pail thriftily set for the drippings, a
wire cupboard with plates of food set there for the cellar coolness,
and in one corner a little dairy compartment, built over a spring
covered by a wooden trap-door, completed the furnishings of the floor.
For the rest, the place was a fairly well-stocked tool-house; a scythe
and a grindstone, snow-shovel and ladders were arranged compactly; a
watering-pot and rake stood fresh from use by the door.

A low cow-stall came next and beyond this a fowl roost, both these
last noticeably clean and sweet, and this in a day when the microbe
and the germ were not such prominent factors in our civilisation as
they are at present.

I retraced my steps and went through the living-room to the room
beyond it, over the shed and dairy. It was a fair-sized study,
unmistakably a man's. The end wall held the fireplace, with a large
map of the world hung over it. The ocean side of the cottage was
windowless and lined with well-used books on pine shelves. These
overflowed on the wall which held the entrance door, and where they
stopped a sort of trophy of arms was arranged on the wall. An army
revolver, a great Western six-shooter, a fine little hunting-piece, a
grim Ghoorka knife and an assegai, which I recognised from similar
treasures on the barrack wall