id he; now, why may they not
have known each other there?"

"I did not know that he came from Nebraska."

"She has never talked about him then?"

"Never."

Mr. Gryce drew another deep breath and let down his bucket again.

"I thought your cousin spent her childhood in Toledo?"

"She did, sir."

"How came she to go to Nebraska then?"

"Well, she was left an orphan and had to look out for herself. A
situation in some way opened to her in Nebraska, and she went there to
take it."

"A situation at what?"

"As waitress in some hotel."

"Humph! And was she still a waitress when she married?"

"Yes, I think so, but I am not sure about it or any thing else in
connection with her at that time. The subject was so painful we never
discussed it."

"Why painful?"

"She lost her husband so soon."

"But you can tell me the name of the town in which this hotel was, can
you not?"

"It was called Swanson then, but that was fifteen years ago. Its name
may have been changed since."

Swanson! This was something to learn, but not much. Mr. Gryce returned
to his first question. "You have not told me," said he, "why _you_
believe Craik Mansell to be innocent?"

"Well," replied she, "_I_ believe Craik Mansell to be innocent because
he is the son of his mother. I think I know _him_ pretty well, but I am
certain I knew _her_. She was a woman who would go through fire and
water to attain a purpose she thought right, but who would stop in the
midst of any project the moment she felt the least doubt of its being
just or wise. Craik has his mother's forehead and eyes, and no one will
ever make me believe he has not her principles also."

"I coincide with you, madam," remarked the attentive detective.

"I hope the jury will," was her energetic response.

He bowed and was about to attempt another question, when an interruption
occurred. Miss Firman was called from the room, and Mr. Gryce found
himself left for a few moments alone. His thoughts, as he awaited her
return, were far from cheerful, for he saw a long and tedious line of
inquiry opening before him in the West, which, if it did not end in
failure, promised to exhaust not only a week, but possibly many months,
before certainty of any kind could be obtained. With Miss Dare on the
verge of a fever, and Mansell in a position calling for the utmost nerve
and self-control, this prospect looked any thing but attractive to the
benevolent detective; and, carried away by his