"There are several."
"Well," said Harvey, impatient with the vacillation shown by his aunt, "I shall not come back until she is found."
His hand was on the knob of the door when his distressed relative sprang to her feet.
"Harvey;" she said in a wild, scared manner, "shall I tell you what I believe?"
"Of course."
"Dollie did not lose herself: some of those awful men did it."
"Do you mean the strikers?"
"Yes; they have taken her away to spite you."
"Impossible!" exclaimed the young man, passing out the door and striding up the single street that ran through the village.
But though unwilling to confess it to himself, the same shocking suspicion had come to him at the moment he learned that Dollie was lost. Could it be that some of the men, grown desperate in their resentment, had taken this means of mortally injuring him? Was there any person in the wide world who would harm an innocent child for the sake of hurting a strong man? Alas, such things had been done, and why should they not be done again? The words that he overheard between Hugh O'Hara and Tom Hansell proved them capable of dark deeds. Could it be that some of the hints thrown out by them during that brief interview in the cabin bore any relation to the disappearance of Dollie.