“Certainly not,” the younger man said heartily, “I shall be very comfortable; don’t bother about me.”

He had a distinct impression that Coolidge did not desire his company any further, yet this suspicion aroused no resentment.  This was a matter with which he was in no way concerned, and the only interest he felt was strictly impersonal.  His eyes followed the two as they advanced up the board walk to the front door of the cottage, and he felt a measure of surprise at seeing Coolidge calmly open the door without knocking.  Both disappeared amidst the darkness within, and he dismissed the whole affair from his mind almost instantly.  Sinking comfortably back in the seat, his gaze centred on the maze of children playing in the street.  Their antics amused him for some time, but, at last, he began wondering at the delay of those within, and his mind drifted to the peculiar conditions with which he was confronted.  Over and over again he reviewed the facts told him, and compared these with his own observations.  That something was wrong was beyond doubt; he could no longer question this, but no satisfactory clue to the mystery had yet presented itself.  If some conspiracy was on foot against Natalie, what could be its object? and who were directly involved?  There was apparently no way to settle this, except to wait patiently for some move on the part of the others.  Any attempt at guessing would only lead him astray.  Seemingly, Percival Coolidge was the only person who could be directly interested should misfortune occur to his niece; he was the guardian of her inheritance, and responsible for what remained of her father’s estate.  Undoubtedly he also was the next heir at law.  His interest in the matter was therefore easily figured out.  Yet there was nothing to prove that the fellow was a villain at heart, or had any reason to attempt desperate methods.  The mere fact that some other woman amused herself in pretending to be Natalie proved nothing criminally wrong.  It might be a mere lark, with no vicious object in view.  Indeed, but for the deep interest West already felt in the girl herself, he would have dismissed this angle of the problem entirely from consideration.  It seemed far too melodramatic and improbable to be taken seriously, although, from mere curiosity, he purposed to round up this masquerader, and satisfy himself as to why she was thus publicly impersonating the girl.  Yet this appeared a matter of minor importance, his real task being to learn the condition of the Steven Coolidge estate, and whether or not, Percival had administered it justly.  Once satisfied upon that point, he would know better what further steps to take.  His whole mind had unconsciously centred upon a distrust of the man.  He believed him to be a sneaking scoundrel, at present engaged in seeking some means for gaining possession of the trust funds left in his care.  And yet, West had to confess to himself that this belief was largely founded upon prejudice—­confidence