ished, Roy cantered leisurely back to the camp. As he rode,
his mind was concentrated on plans for his future course. He resolved to
keep the matter secret from his elderly mother, who was by no means in
good health. Instead, he would merely tell her that a friend of his was
in trouble, and that he must go immediately to New York, in order to
straighten out the affair. His mother accepted his explanation without
any suspicion that he had told her only a half-truth. She merely mourned
over this interruption of his visit, and made him promise to return at
the earliest possible moment. Roy felt shame over the subterfuge with
which he had deceived his mother, but he knew that it was necessary for
her own sake, while her knowledge of Ethel's plight could do no good.

Roy hastily, but methodically, packed his traveling bag, and then, after
an affectionate farewell to his mother, stepped into the town wagon, and
was driven to the station.

After reaching the station, Roy occupied the short interval of waiting
for the special by writing out two messages, which he had put on the
wire to New York. The first of these was addressed to the Collector of
the Port, asking whether or not clearance papers had been taken out for
_The Isabel_. The other telegram was to the most noted detective agency
in the city, which contained a request that their best operative should
meet him at the arrival of his train in the Grand Central Terminal. He
directed that the replies, in each instance, should be sent to him at
Albany, in care of the limited train with which he would make connection
there.

The second message was barely completed and delivered to the telegrapher
when the special roared to a standstill by the station platform. Roy
sprang quickly up the steps, and almost before he had entered the car
the locomotive was again snorting on its way.

The loungers about the station watched greedily this unexpected
interruption of the day's routine. And, too, there was bitter envy in
their hearts directed toward this handsome, young aristocrat, who could
thus summon a train for his private pleasure. They could not guess
anything of the black misery that marked the mood of the young man whom
they deemed so favored of fate.

Roy's impatience was such that he could not sit for a minute at a time.
Instead, he strode to and fro with the feverish intensity of a leopard
padding swiftly backward and forward in its cage. So he moved
restlessly, though w