“Depend upon me, that you may. If it’s in the power of man, I’ll have that breastpin before many days. I guess I’ll be traveling now,” he said, as he put the bill out of sight; “but you will see me again soon. Good-day, sir.”
He touched his slouch cap politely to the squire, and turning, was quickly lost to view.
For some moments Squire Moulton stood lost in deep thought. He could not trust the man fully, try as he would. But he was where he could not help himself, and so resolved to make the best of the matter.
Ronald Edgerton walked briskly in the direction of the city, for half a mile, when he came upon a horse tied to a tree. He quickly unhitched the animal, and leaping into the saddle, trotted swiftly away. It was getting dark, and he spurred his horse onward, looking anxiously at every object he passed. Soon his eye brightened, for he caught sight of a familiar figure hurrying in the same direction with himself. He now slackened his speed, in order to keep the figure in view, but did not follow so closely as to be himself discovered.
They entered the city, and he rode nearer to Rose Moulton, for she it was whom he was watching.
She had walked swiftly after fleeing from her brother’s grounds, in order to gain her lodgings before night came on; but her now lagging gait told that she was foot-sore and weary. Once she stopped and leaned against a lamp-post, but having a faint sigh, she soon started on again.
She had not proceeded far before, uttering a deep cry, she fell stumbling upon the rough pavement.
Quick as thought the horseman sprang to the ground, and before other assistance was offered, he had tenderly raised her in his arms. He bent an anxious look upon her face, and placed his hand upon her heart. She had only fainted from weariness; and hastily calling a cab he placed her within, and giving the name and number of the street, to which he wished to be driven, he then followed.
Seating himself, he took the insensible woman’s head in his lap, smoothed back with a gentle hand the heavy masses of her tangled hair; and once he heaved a long, quivering sigh, and murmured—“Poor Rose!”
But this weakness soon passed, and he began searching earnestly for the hidden treasure. Not many moments passed ere he held it in his hand. He thrust it within his own bosom, and then hastily rolling the fifty-dollar note which he had received from the squire in a piece of paper, he put it in place of the stolen brooch.