mportance
of my instructions!"

"Where is he now?" asked the Judge. "I have not seen him for an hour;
but there seems only one thing to be done."

"Certainly," agreed Masterson, delighted that McVeigh at last began to
look with reason on his own convictions. "He should be arrested at
once."

"We must not be hasty in this matter, it is so important," said
McVeigh. "Phil, I will ask you to see that a couple of horses are
saddled. Have your men do it without arousing the servants'
suspicions. I am going to my room for a more thorough investigation.
Come with me, Judge, if you please. I am glad you remained. I don't
want any of the others to know what occurred. I can't believe it of
Monroe--yet."

"Kenneth, my boy, I don't like to crush any lingering faith you
have in your Northern friend," said Clarkson, laying his hand
affectionately on McVeigh's arm as they reached the steps, "but from
the evidence before us I--I'm afraid he's gone! He'll never come
back!"

At that moment a low, lazy sort of whistle sounded across the
lawn, so low and so slow that it was apparently an unconscious
accompaniment to reverie or speculation. It was quite dark except
where the light shone from the hall. All the gaudy paper lanterns
had been extinguished, and when the confidential notes of "Rally
'round the flag, boys," came closer, and the whistler emerged from
the deeper shadows, he could only distinguish two figures at the foot
of the steps, and they could only locate him by the glow of his
cigar in the darkness.

There was a moment's pause and then the whistler said, "Hello! Friends
or foes?"

"Captain Jack!" said McVeigh, with a note of relief in his voice, very
perceptible to the Judge, who felt a mingling of delight and surprise
at his failure as a prophet.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Colonel?" and Monroe came leisurely forward. "I
fancied every one but myself had gone to bed when I saw the lights
out. I walked away across your fields, smoking."

The others did not speak. They could not at once throw aside the
constraint imposed by the situation. He felt it as he neared the
steps, but remarked carelessly:

"Cloudy, isn't it? I am not much of a weather prophet, but feel as if
there is a storm in the air."

"Yes," agreed McVeigh, with an abstracted manner. He was not thinking
of the probable storm, but of what action he had best take in the
matter, whether to have the suspected man secretly watched, or to make
a plain statemen