ms which required explanation in the
most common-sense way. After giving her uncle time to leave the
house--intuition told her that he would do so--she rose and rang the
bell. Then she moved to the window while she waited for an answer to her
summons. She saw the burly figure of her uncle walking swiftly down
towards the settlement and in the direction of the saloon.

She turned with a sigh as a servant entered.

"Did any one call last night while I was out?" she asked.

"Not for you, miss."

"Oh!"

"No, miss, but Mr. Lablache was here. He was with your uncle for a long
time--in the office."

"Did he come in with Mr. Allandale?"

"Oh, no, miss, the master didn't go out. At least not that I know of.
Mr. Lablache didn't call exactly. I think he just came straight to the
office. I shouldn't have known he was there, only I was passing the door
and heard his voice--and the master's."

"Oh, that will do--just wait a moment, though. Say, is Silas around?
Just find him and send him right along. Tell him to come to the
veranda."

The servant departed, and Jacky sat down at a writing-table and wrote a
note to "Lord" Bill. The note was brief but direct in its tone.

"Can you see me this afternoon? Shall be in after tea."

That was all she put, and added her strong, bold signature to it. Silas
came to the window and she gave him the note with instructions to
deliver it into the hands of the Hon. Bunning-Ford.

The letter dispatched she felt easier in her mind.

What had Lablache been closeted with her uncle for? This was the
question which puzzled--nay, alarmed her. She had seen her uncle early
on the previous evening, and he had seemed happy enough. She wished now,
when she had returned from visiting Mrs. Abbot, that she had thought to
see if her uncle was in. It had become such a custom for him lately to
be out all the evening that she had long ceased her childhood's custom
of saying "Good-night" to him before retiring to bed. One thing was
certain, she felt her uncle's strange behavior this morning was in some
way due to Lablache's visit. She meant to find out what that visit
meant.

To this end several plans occurred to her, but in each case were
abandoned as unsuitable.

"No," she murmured at last, "I guess I'll tax him with it. He'll tell
me. If Lablache means war, well--I've a notion he'll get a hustling he
don't consider."

Then she left the sitting-room that she might set about her day's work.
She wou