CHAPTER XXIV.
FAIRACRES IS CLOSED.
"Oh, Mr. Metcalf, may I come in?"
The superintendent was alone in his office and admitted Amy at once. "Such strange things have happened, I've not come to work to-day, but to ask your help. My Uncle Frederic—"
"Sit down, child, you are breathless with haste. You needn't talk. I have heard your news. Dr. Wise has sent me a message. I am expecting him here immediately."
"Isn't it dreadful?"
"Very," answered the gentleman, and his grave face emphasized his words. He knew Archibald Wingate better than anybody else could know him. He was the rich man's confidential employee, from whom no weaknesses were hid. He believed the mill owner to be vindictive, and he had heard his often-expressed contempt for the "whole family of Kaye, so far as its men are concerned." Of course, this had been some time ago; before Fairacres had become Mr. Wingate's home. Since then his enmity toward his relatives had seemed to slumber, it had even altered to a sort of friendliness; yet Mr. Metcalf had no faith in the endurance of this friendliness should any test be put upon it. The attack of the night before had pointed suspicion very strongly toward one of "the Kayes," and should the victim recover, he would, doubtless, prosecute to the full extent of the law the person who had assaulted him.
"Do you know how he is?"
"Of whom do you ask?"