It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge’s hands.  That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting.

She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only for a few days.  Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek.  Why could she not have listened quietly?  In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings.  The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart, but it sometimes seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was weakening.

It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts.  Plans for the winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the housekeeper left little time for brooding.

At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind, had to be dragged back out of harm’s way by the baggage master, as the long train swept around the curve.

“You’ll find yourself killed one of these days if you don’t look out,” remarked Jack, descending from the trunk.

But Belle gave small heed.  “I am so glad you have come,” she cried, seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground.  “Such lots of things have happened.”

“Aren’t you glad to see me too?” asked Mr. Whittredge.

“Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell you.  Something I can’t tell any one else.”

“Bless me! this is interesting.  Just wait till I find my checks, and we’ll walk up town together.”

Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began talking about the paper mills.  There was nothing for her but to fall back with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective.

“It’s all nonsense.  I don’t believe he was a detective at all, but it was fun taking his picture,” said Jack.

“I’ll have it to show you to-morrow,” added Maurice.

“Why don’t you ask Cousin Betty who he is?” suggested Rosalind.

Belle’s deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of this simple method of solving the problem.

“Of course we might,” she acknowledged.

“I want to stop at Morgan’s a moment,” Allan looked back to say.

At the magician’s corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a step to the shop, the secret still remained untold.

Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them.  He greeted Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, “I am Morgan, the magician!” Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass ring, he added, “I have broken the spell!” With this he disappeared for a moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully.