I called Everett over, and he told me she went
with her father of her own free will. The squatter told him so."

"He's a liar! And if he's inveigled that girl--"

Ann's loyalty to Everett forced her to say:

"Hush, Horace! You've no right to say anything against him until you are
sure."

Shellington took several rapid strides around the room.

"If I'd only known it before!"

"I've tried to reach you," Ann broke in; "but my messages could not have
been delivered."

"Oh, I'm not blaming you, Ann," he said in a lower tone. "But those men
in some way have forced her to go. I'm sure of it! Fledra would never
have gone with them willingly. Did she leave no message, no word? Have
you searched my room? Have you looked every where?"

"No, I didn't look in your room--it didn't enter my mind. Why didn't I
think of that before? Come, we'll look now."

Under the large blotter on his desk Horace found the two tear-stained
letters Fledra had left. With a groan the frantic lover tore open the
one directed to him and read it.

"She's gone with them!" he said slowly in a hollow voice, and sank into
a chair.

Miss Shellington took the note from his outstretched hand, and read:

"_Mr. Shellington_.--

"I'm going away because I don't like your house any more. Let Floyd
stay and let your sister take care of him like when I was here.
Give him this letter and tell him I'll love him every day. I took
Snatchet because I thought I'd be lonely. Goodby."

The last words were almost illegible. With twitching face, Ann handed
the letter back to Horace.

In the man before her she almost failed to recognize her brother, so
great was the change that had come over him. She threw her arms tenderly
about him, and for many minutes neither spoke. At length, with a start,
Horace loosened his sister's arms and stood up.

"Give Floyd his note--and leave me alone for a while, Dear."

His tone served to hasten Ann's ready obedience. She took the note for
Floyd and went out.

Four times Horace read and reread his letter. He was tortured with a
thousand fears. Where had she gone, and with whom? And why should she
have left him, when she had so constantly and sincerely evinced her love
for him? She could not have gone back to the squatters; for her hatred
of them had been intense. He remembered what she had told him of Lem
Crabbe--and sprang to his feet with an oath. Hot blood rushed to his
fingertips, and left them d