had the chief of police in circulating such a report? Was the motive for
Dr. Slavens' disappearance behind that insidious attempt to discredit
him, and fasten a character upon him wholly foreign to his own?

It was a matter worth looking into. Had Dr. Slavens incurred, somehow,
the disfavor of the vicious element which was the backbone of the place?
And had he paid the penalty of such temerity, perhaps with his life?

Thinking over the futility of a further appeal to the authorities there,
and wondering where she could turn for honest assistance beyond William
Bentley, who could do no more than herself, Agnes walked away from the
camp a short distance, retracing the way they had come.

"Of all the deluded, deceived creatures!" said Mrs. Reed.

"Hush-sh-sh!" said the miller's wife.

It was almost sunset when Agnes, overtaking her thoughts, halted with a
start to find that she had gone half the distance back to the river.
Hoping that they would not be waiting supper on her account, she turned
and hurried back.

Meanwhile, at camp there had been a little running-up of excitement,
occasioned by the arrival of the Governor's son, who came on a
commission from his mother and sister, bearing a note of invitation to
Mrs. Reed, her sister, Mrs. Mann, and June Reed.

Jerry Boyle--for that was the name of the Governor's son--was greatly
surprised to find his friend, Joe Walker, in the camp. But that only
made it easier for him, he declared, seeing that Walker could vouch for
him and put him on unquestionable terms at once.

"Just as if it were necessary!" exclaimed Mrs. Reed, glowing with
pleasure. "And you the brother of my daughter's dearest friend!"

Jerry Boyle seemed older by ten years than Walker. He was a tall man,
with a little forward bend to him that gave him an awkward cast. He was
dark-skinned and big-nosed, with black eyebrows which met at its bridge
and appeared to threaten an invasion of that structure. Little
sensitive, expressive ripples ran over his face as he talked, and that
was all the time. For Boyle was as voluble as a political press-agent.

Bentley recognized him, even before he was introduced, as the man whom
Walker had pointed out in the dance-house the night before. He said
nothing about that, but he smiled to himself when he recalled Walker's
anxiety to leave the place. It was a sort of guilty honor, he thought,
such as that which was anciently supposed to stand between thieves.

As Agnes a