“He left here on Tuesday,” Agnes went on. “Tuesday evening just before dark. I saw him get into his boat about sundown; he was going to your house from the other side. Did you come around that way?”
“No, I come by the ford.”
“It is very strange, for he told me he would be staying at your house till his own was ready for him.”
Dod moved uneasily in his saddle, then he slipped down and led the horse away some distance. “Come here, Nance,” he said, “I’ve got to look into this. You ain’t the faintin’ kind, I know, but there’s something wrong, I’m satisfied. Now, don’t look so skeered; I reckon we’ll get at the bottom of it. Is there anybody about here that ’ud be likely to be an inimy o’ hisn?”
Agnes shook her head. “No one that I know of. He never seemed to have any very intimate friends, but he is always pleasant to everybody, and I think nearly every one has a good word for him.”
Dod wagged his head again. “Nobody want to rob him o’ anythin’?”
Agnes paused before she answered. She thought first of the miniatures, but who would want such purely personal things? Then like a flash came a thought of the will. Parker carried that. Humphrey Muirhead knew it would be in his possession. “There is something,” she said breathlessly; “it is the will, Uncle Dod, my grandfather Muirhead’s will. Mr. Willett has that and Hump Muirhead knows it.”
Uncle Dod made an exclamation and said something under his breath. “You’ve hit it, girl. Trust a woman’s wits. I’m glad I tackled you first. You’ve hit the nail on the head. I’ll bet my shirt he’s up to some sort of scheme to get that will. I remember he told me about it. That’s good, too, fur I can testify to that. Oh, we’ll outwit Hump Muirhead, don’t you fear.”
“What do you suppose he has done?”
“Kidnapped him, likely.” He brought his fist down with a thump into the palm of his hand. “I’m an ijit! Why didn’t I think of that before?”