reet entrance.

I had persuaded Lossing to remain out of sight, and had myself viewed
Voisin's departure from afar, and when I reported the fact Lossing
exclaimed, 'Masters, this must end! That man must not be permitted to
visit Miss Jenrys after this!'

'Rest easy,' I answered him. 'The villain will at once take measures
to learn the truth about you, and when he knows that you are not lying
somewhere on a cold slab awaiting recognition, he will know that his
matrimonial game is up,' I took a sidewise glance at Lossing as I
spoke the next words, 'and that one fortune at least has slipped
through his fingers.'

His eyes, sombre and proud, at once turned slowly toward me as I
spoke.

'Masters,' he said, 'I wish to heaven June Jenrys were as poor--as
poor as I am!'

To this I had no answer ready, and we walked on for a short time in
silence. Then suddenly he stopped short.

'Masters,' he asked, 'what was it that fell when I went into the
smoke, like an idiot?'

'A piece of timber with a burning rag fluttering from it. A coat
thrown off by one of those poor fellows. Just the bait Voisin wanted,'
I replied.

CHAPTER XXX.

'IT SHALL NOT BE ALL SUSPENSE.'

Since the coming of Mr. Trent, who had secured rooms next door to the
house occupied by Miss Ross and her niece, it had become my habit to
pass an hour, more or less, in Miss Jenrys' parlours each day in the
afternoon or evening, as was most convenient, and often, besides Mr.
Trent, and of late Miss O'Neil, Lossing made one of the party; for he
had come to know as much, almost, as any one of us concerning Gerald
Trent's strange absence.

On leaving the scene of the fire it was important that I should have a
few words with Dave Brainerd, and this done I was as ready to set out
for Miss Jenrys' cosy apartment as was Lossing; for I felt with him
that Monsieur Voisin must no longer be permitted to annoy the ladies,
even for the good of the cause in which I was so deeply interested.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I learned privately, and from the lips
of Miss Ross, that Monsieur Voisin had been there in advance of us and
had gone.

Seated in the little rear parlour, with the _portieres_ drawn, the
clear-headed little Quakeress told me the story of his visit.

I had observed upon entering that June Jenrys was not quite her usual
tranquil, self-possessed self; that her cheeks wore an unwonted flush,
and that her eyes were very bright and restless, whil