The apartments which the kind-hearted Miss Parks allowed Deb to have were small but pleasant, and the bright sunshine that strolled in the back windows did much toward brightening up Deb's naturally lively disposition.

By the aid of the energetic elderly maiden the furniture from the former Willington rooms was quickly set to rights, a good part of it being stored in the garret until--when?

Deb asked herself that question many times as she sat on the edge of the bed, after Miss Parks had gone below.

"If Jack was only here," she sighed. "Where can he have gone? I will never, never believe he has run away, no matter what Mr. Benton or the others say. Something has surely happened to him."

It was not long before she decided to start on a regular search for her brother, and going down stairs she told Miss Parks of her intention.

"Well, dear, do just as you think best," was that lady's reply. "Where do you intend to go?"

"I shall visit that farmer's place first," replied the girl. "Perhaps they can give me some information."

"I hope so. But have a cup of tea before you leave?"

"Thank you; I really don't care for it."

"Oh, but you must," insisted the good lady. "It will do you a heap of good. Just the thing to quiet your nerves."

Rather than displease her friend, Deb finally consented; and spent ten minutes in the back parlor, sipping the elderly maiden's favorite Young Hyson.

The girl was soon on her way. Farmer Farrell was well known throughout the district, and it did not take her long to reach his place.

She was thoroughly dismayed to learn that Jack had started for home at sundown the day before.

Not knowing where to go or what to do next, she retraced her steps toward Corney. She was in no hurry, and wandered in deep and painful contemplation, to one side of the road.

Near the old mill she stumbled over a bundle that lay in the gra.s.s near a tree. Without thinking, she was about to step over it, when something about the cloth covering attracted her attention, and picking it up, she was amazed to find that it was Jack's kit, wrapped in his overalls!

"How in the world did that get here!" she exclaimed, and then turned deathly white, as a horrible suspicion crossed her mind: "Oh, it could never be! no, no, no, no!"

She dropped the bundle and ran down to the water's edge. The spot was just below the mill, and in a little cove, where the river was comparatively quiet.

Nothing was to be seen--nothing but the sparkle of the sun, and the waving shadows cast by the trees overhead.

"It's awfully lonely here," she said to herself. "If Jack came here----"

She was startled to see the shadow of a man close beside her. Looking up she gave a slight scream as she recognized the tall form of Corrigan.

She did not know that the man had been watching her for some time, revolving in his mind what he should say about Jack if asked any questions.

He advanced to her with a smiling face, ignoring entirely the way he had treated her the previous evening.

"Got tired of waiting for Jack to get back?" he asked.

Deb was too much alarmed to offer a reply at once.

"Yes--I am," she stammered.

"Thought you would be. He ought to have sent you word," continued Corrigan. "He sold the model I took, just as I told you he would," he added.

"Where is he?" asked the girl, thrown off her guard by the villain's cool manner.

"Around here somewhere. He's been here and over to Redrock twice since yesterday. He got the contract to fix up the machinery in this old mill. The man who bought it wants the job done as soon as possible, so he went right to work. I'm helping him on the drawing. I'm a draughtsman, you know."

Deb did not know, nor was she aware that Corrigan's statement was purely fict.i.tious.

"Where is Jack now?" she asked, turning over the plausibility of the story in her mind.

"Just went up the stream a ways, to catch the true drift of the tide,"

replied Corrigan. "He thinks they will get more power if the wheel is shifted around. Better come in the place and wait for him."

Deb hesitated. In spite of all the man was saying, she hated to trust him. Yet, if he was speaking the truth, certainly her treatment of him the previous evening had not been right at all.

"There are some benches inside," continued the fellow; "you are tired, I can see, and the rest will do you good. Jack will land at the bottom room."

Rather reluctantly Deb followed the man into the building.

"Here you are," he said, pulling a bench from the wall, and motioning her to a seat. "You mustn't think I bear you a grudge for what you did last night," he continued, pleasantly.

The girl sat down without replying. The spot was near an open window, and she strained her eyes to catch sight of any craft that might be coming toward the mill.

"Perhaps after all, it's all right, and I'm a silly goose to be so worried," she thought; "it's just like Jack to take hold of the first job that comes to hand. For all I know his silence may be caused by his good luck."

Yet when she remembered about being locked in and, later, turned out of their home, she concluded it was a serious matter, and wondered what her brother would say to that.

It was fast turning to twilight, and the evening sun cast long flickering rays across the rapid stream. Had her mind been tranquil, Deb would have enjoyed the scene greatly, but now her one thought was upon the boat she hoped would speedily appear.

"Object to smoking?" asked Corrigan, after a brief spell of silence.

"Oh, no, smoke as much as you please," replied the girl.

Corrigan filled his pipe, and lighting it, sat down. He was by no means a dull man, and to carry out his hastily formed deception, he began making a few apparent calculations on a bit of paper which he held upon his knee.

He was waiting for Mosey to return from Blackbird Island. He expected that his brother-in-law would see Max Pooler, and transact some private business that interested the three, and from which he expected to receive a neat sum of money. Several times Deb turned to watch Corrigan.

"He seems sincere enough," she kept saying to herself, yet at the bottom of her heart her uneasiness increased. The man hardly knew what to do.

On the impulse of the moment he had detained Deb, thinking that he might in some way make her shield him from the punishment he knew he richly deserved, yet now he was not sure he could manage her.

A quarter of an hour, a very long quarter to Deb, pa.s.sed.

"My brother ought to be in sight," she said. "He ought to stop working.

It is getting late."

"Maybe he's struck a new idea," replied Corrigan. "You know he hates to give up unless a point is settled."

Deb knew that this was true of Jack. But might not her brother go straight home, without returning to the mill?