So did Bessie, and she was thinking hard as they left his office and made their way toward some of the shops in which, the day before, she had so longed to be.  Feminine instinct has more than once proved itself superior to masculine logic, and although both Jamieson and Eleanor seemed inclined to laugh at her, Bessie felt that she was right—­that Mr. Holmes, in some queer way, was intimately concerned in the web in which she and Zara seemed to be caught.

She couldn’t pretend to explain, even to herself, the manner in which he might be affected, but of the main fact she was sure.  She knew that her memory had not deceived her; she had seen the man in Hedgeville.  And the fact that he had deliberately lied about that seemed to her good evidence that he had something to conceal.

He knew Farmer Weeks.  And in some fashion Farmer Weeks was intimately bound up with the affairs of Zara and her father.  Everything that had happened since their flight from Hedgeville proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt.  He had run great risks to get Zara back; although he was such a notorious miser, he had spent a good deal of money.  And he was mixed up with Brack.

Suddenly a thought came to Bessie.  Zara’s father!  He must know.  And if he did, wasn’t there a chance that he might be willing to talk to her, if she could only manage to see him?  He distrusted Charlie Jamieson evidently, since he had refused to talk to him just when the lawyer had been sure that he was going to get some facts that would throw light on the mystery.  But with Bessie he might well take a different stand.  He had seen her in the country; he knew that she was a friend of Zara.

“Miss Eleanor,” said Bessie, quickly, “I’ve got an idea and I wish you would let me talk to Mr. Jamieson about it.  Will you, please—­and by myself?  You’re angry still at Zara and her father, and perhaps you’d think I was all wrong.”

“I’m not exactly angry, Bessie,” said Eleanor.  “I was hurt, but I’m beginning to see that very likely I am wrong, and that they were honestly mistaken, not deliberately ungrateful.  At any rate, if Charlie Jamieson can stand the way Zara’s father treats him, I guess I don’t need to worry about it.”

“Then may I go?”

“Yes, and hurry, or you’ll find that he’s left his office.  You won’t be long, will you?”

“No, indeed; only a few minutes.  Will you be here in this store, Miss Eleanor, when I come back?”

“Yes, I’ll meet you at the ribbon counter.”

“Thank you, thank you ever so much, Miss Eleanor!  I’ll hurry just as much as I can, and I certainly won’t be long.”

Then she was off, and luckily enough she found that the lawyer had not yet gone.  He listened to her suggestion with a smile.

“By George,” he said, when she had finished, “maybe you’ve hit the right idea, Bessie, at that!  I’m afraid I can’t manage it today, but I’ll take you to the jail myself in the morning, and see that you get a chance to talk to him.  I doubt if he’ll say anything, he’s either obstinate or badly frightened.  But it’s worth the chance, if you don’t mind going to the jail to see him.  It’s not a very nice place, you know.”