ully.

"Perhaps, sir," suggested Macdonald, "Osmund Maiden took another name
when he came to Canada."

"No, no," the law clerk exclaimed sharply. "I hope not. He could have
had no reason for doing such a thing."

"It's not uncommon," the factor answered dryly. "Ah, here we are at
April! Half a page of entries at the least! Massingham, Clarke, Bent,
Duvallard--"

He paused with an exultant little cry, and Christopher Burley, bending
further over him, noted where his finger rested near the bottom of the
page.

"Osmund Maiden!" the law clerk shouted in a tone of wild excitement. "It
is he! it is he! There, you can read it! plainly! Success at last!"

"You are right, sir!" exclaimed Macdonald. "Here we are; 'April the
19th, 1788--Osmund Maiden, one trunk, marked 409.' Doubtless this is
your man."

It was a thrilling moment, and I felt a sudden and keen interest in the
discovery, which I had by no means expected. I stared at the faded
inscription on the brown page, written there nearly twenty-eight years
before. Then I looked at Christopher Burley. I had never seen him so
deeply stirred. He was rubbing his hands together, drawing quick, short
breaths, and examining the book with an expression of mingled triumph
and anxiety.

"But how is this?" he asked hoarsely. "Look: a line is drawn through
every name on the page except that of Osmund Maiden."

"His name is not erased," replied the factor, "because he never came
back--because the receipt for his trunk was never presented."

"Ah, I see!" muttered the law clerk. "He never came back. Twenty-eight
years in the wilderness! I fear he is dead."

"That is the most reasonable way to look at it, sir."

"And yet he may be still alive, Mr. Macdonald. Surely if he stopped at
Fort Garry he made some mention of his future plans."

The factor shook his head.

"The entries on this page are not in my handwriting," he replied. He
opened his desk, took out a small book and glanced at it. "At that time
I was absent from the fort," he added. "From the end of March to the
beginning of May, 1788, I was in Quebec."

"But are none of the old employees here now?"

"No; not one. There are a few who have served a long time, but not prior
to 1790."

"Failure at every point!" exclaimed Mr. Burley, with a gesture of
disappointment. "But I will not despair. This clew must lead to others.
I cannot return to England without proofs of Osmund Maiden's death."

"I do not know where you