ed of counsel. His head
swam, and a cruel sense of injustice ate into his heart. He was a
quiet man--he did not deserve this. All his life he had sidestepped
trouble--and here it was staring him in the face. In desperation he
went to Driggs, the editor. He was a shrewd fellow--he would know what
was best to be done.

He found Mr. Driggs still in a sympathetic mood. He threw back his
long black hair and read the article, with many exclamations of
surprise. In places he smiled--once he laughed.

"How can any one answer this, Driggs?" asked Mr. Steadman in alarm.
"What can be done about it? I wish you would write something about it.
I can't think who would do this. There were no strangers that day at
the school--not that I noticed. None of our people would do it. What
do you think about it, Driggs? Would the girl write it herself?"

"No," replied the editor honestly, "I am quite sure Pearl did not do
this."

Suddenly Mr. Steadman thought of the telegram and the missing man. He
resolved to take Driggs into his confidence.

Driggs was as quick to see the import of it as King James was to smell
gunpowder on that fateful November day when the warning letter was
read in Parliament.

"The Government have sent him out to investigate this in your behalf,"
he said.

"But where is he?" asked Mr. Steadman.

Mr. Driggs' bushy brows drew down over his eyes.

"There's one person can help us," he said. He threw on his
jute-colored waterproof and his faded felt hat. Mr. Steadman followed
him as he went quickly to the Horse Repository.

Bertie was hastily consulted, and Bertie as usual ran true.

"Sure I saw him," said Bertie. "Ain't he back yet? Gee! I'll bet he's
froze! He'll be dead by now for sure. He had on awful nice clothes,
but thin toes on his boots, sharp as needles, and gray socks with dots
on them, and a waist on his coat like as if he wore corsets, and gray
gloves--and a cane, Swell! He was some fine looker, you bet, but he
wouldn't last long in that storm."

"Where did he go, Bertie," asked Mr. Steadman, trying to hold his
voice to a tone of unconcern.

"He asked about teachers, and about how far it was to Watsons."

Mr. Driggs and Mr. Steadman's eyes met.

"If he's any place," said Bertie cheerfully, "he'll be there."

To the Watson's Mr. Steadman and Mr. Driggs determined to go,
although, by this time the evening was well advanced.

The storm had piled the snow into huge drifts which completely filled