his contemplated improvements upon the hotel. The squire
was to have this sum on the first of January, and though Mr. Bennington
did not want it for several months, he consented to take it at that
time; for Squire Moses would not allow it to remain a single month
uninvested. The landlord was confident that he could make money enough
on the new hotel to pay off the mortgage in three years. As soon as the
snow melted in the spring, the work was commenced. The old portion of
the hotel was partly torn to pieces, and for a time business was very
good at the Island Hotel, for the Cliff House was closed.

Both the landlord and his son, pleasurably excited by the alterations in
progress, worked with their own hands. Among other changes, the parlor
chimney was taken down, and Leopold took a hand in the job, enjoying the
operation of tumbling down to the cellar great masses of brick.

"Hold on, Le," shouted the mason who was at work with him, when they had
removed the chimney as far as the level of the parlor floor. "What's
that?"

The mason pointed to a bundle which was lodged in an opening back of the
flue of the Franklin stove that had stood in the parlor. It was covered
with bricks and lime dust, but the mason brought it to the surface with
his iron bar.

"I know what it is," exclaimed Leopold, as he picked up the package, and
knocked it several times against a partition in order to remove the soot
and dust from it.

It was the oil-cloth containing the diary of Harvey Barth.

Leopold was somewhat excited by the discovery, and all the incidents of
Miss Sarah Liverage's visit to the hotel came back fresh to his mind,
though they had occurred eighteen months before.

"What is it?" asked the mason, whose curiosity was excited by the event.

"It is a book that belonged to Harvey Barth, the steward of the Waldo,
which was wrecked off High Rock," replied Leopold. "I will take care of
it."

"But how came it in the chimney?" asked the workman.

"He put it in the flue of the fireplace, and it tumbled down."

"What did he put it in there for?"

"Because there was no closet in the room, and he was a very queer
fellow. He is dead now."

"What are you going to do with the book, then?"

"Send it to his friends, if I can find where they are."

Leopold carried the diary to his room, in a part of the house which was
not to be disturbed, and locked it up in his chest. He wanted to read
the portion which related to the wreck o