Tripper
had disappeared.

She had left New Leeds more than a week before, as was supposed by her
relatives, the Turleys, to pay a visit to friends in the adjoining State
before returning home. To others she had said that she was going to the
North for a visit, whilst yet others affirmed that she had given another
destination. However this might be, she had left not long after
Wickersham had taken his departure, and her leaving was soon coupled
with his name. One man even declared that he had seen the two together
in New York.

Another name was connected with the girl's disappearance, though in a
different way. Terpsichore suggested that Mr. Plume had had something to
do with it, and that he could give information on the subject if he
would. Mr. Plume had been away from New Leeds for several days about the
time of Phrony's departure.

"He did that Wickersham's dirty work for him; that is, what he didn't do
for himself," declared the young woman.

Plume's statement was that he had been off on private business and had
met with an accident. The nature of this "accident" was evident in his
appearance.

Keith was hardly surprised when, a day or two after the rumor of the
girl's disappearance reached him, a heavy step thumping outside his
office door announced the arrival of Squire Rawson. When the old man
opened the door, Keith was shocked to see the change in him. He was
haggard and worn, but there was that in his face which made Keith feel
that whoever might be concerned in his granddaughter's disappearance had
reason to beware of meeting him.

"You have heard the news?" he said, as he sank into the chair which
Keith offered him.

Keith said that he had heard it, and regretted it more than he could
express. He had only waited, hoping that it might prove untrue, to
write to him.

"Yes, she has gone," added the old man, moodily. "She's gone off and
married without sayin' a word to me or anybody. I didn't think she'd
'a' done it."

Keith gasped with astonishment. A load appeared to be lifted from him.
After all, she was married. The next moment this hope was dashed by
the squire.

"I always thought," said the old man, "that that young fellow was
hankerin' around her a good deal. I never liked him, because I didn't
trust him. And I wouldn't 'a' liked him anyway," he added frankly; "and
I certainly don't like him now. But--." He drifted off into reflection
for a moment and then came back again--"Women-folks are c