Mr. Simpson felt uneasy. Was it because he feared that the ghastly mystery connected with Rocky Gulch would be unearthed, and his reputation blasted. At any rate, he decided to see Mrs. Thatcher himself, and find out what he could.
He did not call at the new home of the widow of his old partner, but chanced one day to meet her in the street.
“Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher,” said the squire, affably.
“Good-morning, sir,” responded Mrs. Thatcher, coldly.
“I hear your son is away. You must miss him.”
“I do miss him, Mr. Simpson.”
“Has he gone far?”
“He has gone to the West.”
“Far West?”