nd Toglet had failed twice in their efforts to take Ralph from his
path forever.

"The scamps! They knew he was alive when he boarded the empty freight car!
Why did they not come back and tell me! I suppose they expect to get that
five hundred dollars out of me at Chambersburgh! Just wait till I see
them!"

Squire Paget did not know what to do with the letter. If he destroyed it,
might not the widow hear of his having a letter for her and ask him for it?

And yet if he gave her the letter, that would be the end of the plot
against her--the whole cake would be dough.

Already a new plan to get Ralph out of the way was forming in his mind,
based on the fact that Martin and Toglet had really tried to do as agreed.
Perhaps they would make another trial, if urged on.

"I'll fix this letter business," he said.

Among his own mail had been a circular from a New York dry-goods house,
calling attention to a big midsummer bargain sale, and soliciting orders
from out-of-town patrons. This circular the squire now thrust into the
envelope which had contained Ralph's letter. To make the deception more
complete, the squire drew out his stylographic pen and went over the
address, altering the handwriting quite a little, so that it might not be
recognized.

Then, stowing away the genuine letter among his own, he walked on to the
Nelson cottage, where he left the bogus letter with Mrs. Corcoran, who came
to the door.

"I thought I would bring it along, as it might have news," he said.

Mrs. Nelson was handed the letter. She gave it a hasty examination, and
finding, to her great disappointment, that it was merely an advertisement,
she threw it aside; and thus her son's communication, upon which so much
depended, never reached her.

The squire found out that nothing could be done to further his plan just
then, so far as the widow was concerned. So leaving the cottage, he took
the evening boat for Chambersburgh.

He knew exactly where to look for Martin and Toglet, who had come down from
an upper lake town by railroad. It was in a fashionable club-house, with a
saloon attached, at which many of the sports of the city congregated.

He saw Martin sitting at a table playing some game of chance, and at once
motioned him to come out.

"What is it?" asked Martin, but his face showed that he was much disturbed.

"You know well enough," returned the squire, sharply. "Ralph Nelson is
alive and well!"

"Never!" cried Martin, in some