ot to show myself or to speak."

"I am sorry to have to say good afternoon, Mr. Ransom. Have you any
commands that I can execute for you?"

"None but to give her my love. Tell her there is not a more unhappy man
in New York; you may add that I trust her affection."

The lawyer bowed. Mr. Ransom and Gerridge withdrew. At the foot of the
stairs they were stopped by the shout of a small boy behind them.

"Say, mister, did you drop something?" he called down, coming meanwhile
as rapidly after them as the steepness of the flight allowed. "Mr. Harper
says, he found this where you gentlemen were sitting."

Mr. Ransom, somewhat startled, took the small paper offered him. It was
none of his property but he held to it just the same. In the middle of a
torn bit of paper he had read these words written in his own wife's hand:

Hunter's Tavern,
Sitford, Connecticut.
At 9 o'clock April the 15th.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "no one will ever hear me say again that lawyers
are devoid of heart?"

CHAPTER VII

RAIN

Mr. Ransom had never heard of Sitford, but upon inquiry learned that it
was a small manufacturing town some ten miles from the direct route of
travel, to which it was only connected by a stage-coach running once a
day, late in the afternoon.

What a spot for a meeting of this kind! Why chosen by her? Why submitted
to by this busy New York lawyer? Was this another mystery; or had he
misinterpreted Mr. Harper's purpose in passing over to him the address of
this small town? He preferred to think the former. He could hardly
contemplate now the prospect of failing to see her again which must
follow any mistake as to this being the place agreed upon for the signing
of her will.

Meantime he had said nothing to Gerridge. This was a hope too personal to
confide in a man of his position. He would go to Sitford and endeavor to
catch a glimpse of his wife there. If successful, the whole temper of his
mind might change towards the situation, if not toward her. He would at
least have the satisfaction of seeing her. The detective had enough to do
in New York.

April the fifteenth fell on Tuesday. He was not minded to wait so long
but took the boat on Monday afternoon. This landed him some time before
daylight at the time-worn village from which the coach ran to Sitford. A
railway connected this village with New York, necessitating no worse
inconvenience than crossing the river on a squat, old-fashio