s for young ladies' ears," Mrs.
Brown said primly. "Your Pa never tells you such things. The paper's
been full of this murder, but I would 'a' scorned to talk to you about
it."

"I don't think Blake meant any harm," said Norah. "He didn't say so very
much. I don't suppose he'd have mentioned it, only that Mr. Harris is
supposed to have come our way, and even that doesn't seem certain."

"'Arris 'as baffled the police," said Mrs. Brown, with the solemn pride
felt by so many at the worsting of the guardians of the law. "They don't
reely know anythink about his movements, that's my belief. Why, it's
weeks since he was seen. This yarn about his comin' this way is on'y got
up to 'ide the fact that they don't know a thing about it. I don't
b'lieve he's anywhere within coo-ee of our place. Might be out of the
country now, for all anyone's sure of."

"Blake seemed to think he'd really come this way;" Norah said.

"Blake's an iggerant man," said Mrs. Brown loftily.

"Well, I'll keep a look-out for him, at any rate," laughed Norah. "He
ought to be easy enough to find--tall and good-looking and well set
up--whatever that may mean--and long white beard and hair. He must be a
pretty striking-looking sort of old man. I--" And then recollection
swept over Norah like a flood, and her words faltered on her lips.

Her hand gripped the reins tighter, and she drove on unconsciously.
Blake's words were beating in her ears. "Not a bad-looking old
chap--very tall and well set up--piercing blue eyes and a pretty uppish
way of talking." The description had meant nothing to her until someone
whom it fitted all too aptly had drifted across her mental vision.

The Hermit! Even while she felt and told herself that it could not be,
the fatal accuracy of the likeness made her shudder. It was perfect--the
tall, white-haired old man--"not the sort of old man you'd forget"--with
his distinguished look; the piercing blue eyes--but Norah knew what
kindliness lay in their depths--the gentle refined voice, so different
from most of the rough country voices. It would answer to Blake's
"pretty uppish way of talking." Anyone who had read the description
would, on meeting the Hermit, immediately identify him as the man for
whom the police were searching. Norah's common sense told her that.

A wave of horror swept over the little girl, and the hands gripping the
reins trembled. Common sense might tell one tale, but every instinct of
her heart told a very