"I sha'n't see you for a few days. I wish you would remain at home as much as possible. Get some of the neighbors' girls to keep you company, if you're lonesome."
"Oh, I shall not be lonesome. I shall have too much to do—too much to think about."
He laughed. "You are enough like your father, my girl, to pass for him.
Very well, you'll be penitent enough when I come back."
He was gone in the morning, as he had said, and she was free to keep her appointment with Elkins. He was waiting for her when she readied the hotel.
"Well?" she cried, breathlessly.
"I saw him."
She seized the blushing lad's two hands. "Ah, you splendid follow! And then?—"
"He wrote this note for you," and he handed her an envelope with her own name written on it in an uneven, uncertain scrawl. She tore it open and read:
"DEAR MADAM: I can not understand why there should be any difficulty in finding what became of Sprague and his party. We all reached the lines together, but, as I was hit by a bullet in the head at the moment of rescue, I knew nothing of their movements after reaching the Union lines. I, too, am interested in the young man. I should like to see you or some of his friends at once, as I suspect foul play of some sort.
"Obediently yours,