t personage before the fire, bending nearly
double and complaining bitterly of a fall he had just had on his way
from the stable to the house. According to his statement, the wind had
taken him up bodily, and carrying him a dozen rods or so, had set him
down heavily upon a stone flowerpot which was left outside in the
winter, nearly breaking his back, as he declared. This did not look very
promising for the drive to the station, and Frank opened the business
hesitatingly, and asked John what he thought of it.

'I think I would not go out in such a storm as this with my back if
Queen Victoria was to be there,' John answered gruffly. 'And what would
be the use?' he continued. 'I have been to meet that woman, if she is a
woman, with the outlandish name, more than fifty times, I'll bet; he
don't know what he is talking about when he gets on her track. And
s'posin' she does come, she can find somebody to fetch her. She ain't
going to walk.'

This seemed reasonable; and as Frank's sympathies were with his coachman
and horses rather than with Gretchen and his brother, he decided with
John that he need not go, but added, laughingly, as he saw the man walk
across the floor as well as he ever did on his way to the woodshed:

'Seems to me your broken back has recovered its elasticity very soon.'

To this John made no reply except an inaudible growl, and Frank returned
to the library, resolving not to go near his brother until after train
time, but to let him think that John had gone to the station.

At half-past five, however, Arthur sent for him, and said:

'Has he gone? It must be time.'

'Not quite; it is only half-past five. The train does not come until
half-past six, and is likely to be late,' was Frank's reply.

'Yes, I know,' Arthur continued, 'but he should be there on time. Tell
him to start at once, and take an extra robe with him, and say to
Charles that I will have sherry to-night, and champagne, too, and
Hamburg grapes, and--'

The remainder of his speech was lost on Frank, who was hurrying down the
stairs with a guilty feeling in his heart, although he felt that the end
justified the means, and that under the circumstances he was justified
in deceiving his half-crazy brother. Still he was ill at ease. He had no
faith in Arthur's presentiments, and no idea that any one bound for
Tracy Park would be on the train that night, but he could not shake off
a feeling of anxiety, amounting almost to a dread of some i