“Gone!  Gone where?”

His voice was filled with imperious questioning, and Ann stifled her sobs.

“I know only what Everett has told me.  When we got up the morning after you left, she was gone.  I called Everett over, and he told me she went with her father of her own free will.  The squatter told him so.”

“He’s a liar!  And if he’s inveigled that girl—­”

Ann’s loyalty to Everett forced her to say: 

“Hush, Horace!  You’ve no right to say anything against him until you are sure.”

Shellington took several rapid strides around the room.

“If I’d only known it before!”

“I’ve tried to reach you,” Ann broke in; “but my messages could not have been delivered.”

“Oh, I’m not blaming you, Ann,” he said in a lower tone.  “But those men in some way have forced her to go.  I’m sure of it!  Fledra would never have gone with them willingly.  Did she leave no message, no word?  Have you searched my room?  Have you looked every where?”

“No, I didn’t look in your room—­it didn’t enter my mind.  Why didn’t I think of that before?  Come, we’ll look now.”

Under the large blotter on his desk Horace found the two tear-stained letters Fledra had left.  With a groan the frantic lover tore open the one directed to him and read it.

“She’s gone with them!” he said slowly in a hollow voice, and sank into a chair.

Miss Shellington took the note from his outstretched hand, and read: 

     “Mr. Shellington.—­

“I’m going away because I don’t like your house any more.  Let Floyd stay and let your sister take care of him like when I was here.  Give him this letter and tell him I’ll love him every day.  I took Snatchet because I thought I’d be lonely.  Goodby.”

The last words were almost illegible.  With twitching face, Ann handed the letter back to Horace.

In the man before her she almost failed to recognize her brother, so great was the change that had come over him.  She threw her arms tenderly about him, and for many minutes neither spoke.  At length, with a start, Horace loosened his sister’s arms and stood up.

“Give Floyd his note—­and leave me alone for a while, Dear.”

His tone served to hasten Ann’s ready obedience.  She took the note for Floyd and went out.

Four times Horace read and reread his letter.  He was tortured with a thousand fears.  Where had she gone, and with whom?  And why should she have left him, when she had so constantly and sincerely evinced her love for him?  She could not have gone back to the squatters; for her hatred of them had been intense.  He remembered what she had told him of Lem Crabbe—­and sprang to his feet with an oath.  Hot blood rushed to his fingertips, and left them dripping with perspiration.  He fought with a desire to kill someone; but banished the thought that Fledra had not held faith with him.  He called to mind her affection and passionate devotion, and knew that to doubt her would be unjust.  But, if to leave him had made her unhappy, why had she gone?  He thought of Floyd’s letter, and a sudden wish to read it seized him.