“Ho, Judge! is that you?  Glad to see you back.  Have been lonesome with you and your wife both away.  Do you know of the trade we made—­she and I—­the very day you left?  She offered me her piano for three hundred dollars, and I took her up at once.  A fine instrument, that, but a little too small for her.  Answers very well for Angeline.  It’s all right, isn’t it?” the talkative man continued, as he saw the blank expression on Richard’s face and construed it into disapprobation of the bargain.

“Yes, all right, of course.  It was her piano, not mine,” Richard said huskily.  Then feeling the necessity of a little duplicity, he said, “Mrs. Markham went the same day I did, I believe?”

“Really, now, I don’t know whether ’twas that day or the next,” Mr. Bailey replied, showing that what was so important to Richard had as yet made but little impression upon him.  “No, I can’t say which day it was; but here’s Hal Clifford—­he’ll know,” and Mr. Bailey stepped aside as Harry came up the hall.

He had been to call upon a friend who occupied the floor above, and seeing Richard came forward to speak to him, the look of shame upon his face showing that he had not forgotten the circumstances under which they had last met.  As Harry came in Mr. Bailey disappeared, and so the two men were alone when Richard asked, “Do you know what day Mrs. Markham left Camden?”

Richard tried to be natural.  But Harry was not deceived.  There was something afloat—­something which had some connection with his foolish, drunken talk and Ethie’s non-appearance at the masquerade.  Blaming himself for what he remembered to have said, he would not now willingly annoy Richard, and he answered, indifferently:  “She went the same day you did; that is, she left here on the six o’clock train.  I know, for I called in the evening and found her gone.”

“Was she going to Olney?”

Richard’s lips asked this rather than his will, and Harry replied, “I suppose so.  Isn’t she there?”

It was an impudent question, but prompted purely by curiosity, and Richard involuntarily answered, “She has not been there at all.”

For several seconds the two men regarded each other intently, one longing so much to ask a certain question, and the other reading that question in the wistful, anxious eyes bent so earnestly upon him.

“He left in that same train, and took the same route, too.”

Harry said this, and Richard staggered forward, till he leaned upon the door-post while his face was ashy pale.  Harry had disliked Richard Markham, whom he knew so strongly disapproved of his conduct; but he pitied him now and tried to comfort him.

“It cannot be they went together.  I saw no indications of such an intention on the part of Frank.  I hardly think he saw her, either.  He was going to—­, he said, and should be back in a few days.  Maybe she is somewhere.”