the person became confused and turned away.  The gaze was not especially shrewd, but it was disconcerting because steadfast.  When he talked he would chop off his words, one by one, with a distinct pause between each, and that often made it hard to tell whether he had ended his speech or still had more to say.  When very earnest or interested he would play with a locket that dangled from his watch chain; otherwise he usually stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

Mary Louise well knew these peculiarities, having previously lived in his house, and also she knew he was a kind-hearted man, devotedly attached to his deaf wife and thoroughly trusted by Gran’pa Jim.

“I was told,” said the girl presently, “to direct all my letters to my grandfather in your care.”

“I am aware that you have done so,” he replied.

“So I thought, of course, that he and my mother were with you.”

“No; they did not come here.  Colonel Weatherby arranged for me to forward your letters, which I did as soon as they arrived.”

“Oh; then you know his address?”

“I do not.  There are six different points to which I forward letters, in rotation, both those from you and from others on various matters of business, and these points are widely scattered.  My impression is that Colonel Weatherby is in none of these places and that the letters are again forwarded to him to—­wherever he may be.”

Mary Louise felt quite discouraged.  With hesitation she asked: 

“Do you suppose you could find him for me?”

“It is impossible.”

“What am I to do, Mr. Conant?”

“I advise you to go back to your school.”

“Can’t I stay here, with you?”

He stared at her with his round eyes, playing with his locket.

“I haven’t the money for the return trip,” she went on falteringly.  “I had to sell some of my jewelry to get here.  I won’t be much trouble, if you will let me live with you until I can find Gran’pa Jim.”

Mr. Conant still stared.

“I’m sure,” said Mary Louise, “that my grandfather will gladly repay you any money it costs you to keep me.”

“You—­don’t—­un-der-stand,” he retorted, chopping off his words rather viciously.  “Moreover, you can’t understand.  Go to the house and talk to Hannah.  Have you any baggage!”

“I’ve a suit case at the hotel,” she said, and went on to tell him the experiences of her journey and of her encounter with Detective O’Gorman.

During this relation, which he did not interrupt, Mr. Conant toyed persistently with his watch charm.  His features were noncommittal but he was thoroughly interested.

“You see,” he remarked when she had finished, “Colonel Weatherby’s elaborate system of evading discovery is quite necessary.”

“But why should he wish to hide?” asked the girl.

“Don’t you know?”

“No, sir.”