d a strong, young voice, and his son, Philip, Jr.,
bounded into the room and grasped his father's hands. "I overheard a
few of your last words, and you two are on the wrong track. Florrie's no
more mixed up in that horrible business than I am. Neither is Hall.
He's a fool chap, but no villain. I heard what you said about the late
newspaper, but lots of people come out on that midnight train. You may
as well suspect some peaceable citizen coming home from the theatre, as
to pick out poor Hall, without a scrap of evidence to point to him."

I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty assurance of the boy, and
I plucked up new courage. Apprehension had made me faint-hearted, but
if he could show such flawless confidence in Florence and her betrothed,
surely I could do as much.

"Good for you, young man!" I cried, shaking his hand. "You've cheered me
up a lot. I'll take a fresh start, and surely we'll find out something.
But I'd like to send for Stone."

"Wait a bit, wait a bit," said Mr. Crawford. "Phil's right; there's no
possibility of Florrie or Hall in the matter. Leave the gold bag, the
newspapers, and the yellow posies out of consideration, and go to work
in some sensible way."

"How about Mr. Joseph's finances?" I asked. "Are they in satisfactory
shape?"

"Never finer," said Philip Crawford. "Joseph was a very rich man,
and all due to his own clever and careful investments. A bit of a
speculator, but always on the right side of the market. Why, he fairly
had a corner in X.Y. stock. Just that deal--and it will go through in a
few days--means a fortune in itself. I shall settle that on Florence."

"Then you think the will will never be found?" I said.

Mr. Crawford looked a little ashamed, as well he might, but he only said,

"If it is, no one will be more glad than I to see Florrie reinstated in
her own right. If no will turns up, Joe's estate is legally mine, but I
shall see that Florence is amply provided for."

He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather sorry I had caught him
up so sharply.

I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking my brain over it all
for a time, I turned in, but to a miserably broken night's rest.

XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS

The next morning I received information from headquarters. It was a
long-code telegram, and I eagerly deciphered it, to learn that Mrs.
Egerton Purvis was an English lady who was spending a few months in
New York City. She was staying a