any other advertiser in the county,” followed by the usual price list of the merchant’s wares.  There was an unprecedented demand for that issue.  The reputation of the “Clarion,” both as a shrewd advertising medium and a comic paper, was established at once.  For a few days the editor waited with some apprehension for a remonstrance from the absent Dimmidge, but none came.  Whether Mr. Dimmidge recognized that this new advertisement gave extra publicity to his own, or that he was already on the track of the fugitive, the editor did not know.  The few curious citizens who had, early in the excitement, penetrated the settlement of the English miners twenty miles away in search of information, found that Mr. Dimmidge had gone away, and that Mrs. Dimmidge had never resided there with him!

Six weeks passed.  The limit of Mr. Dimmidge’s advertisement had been reached, and, as it was not renewed, it had passed out of the pages of the “Clarion,” and with it the merchant’s advertisement in the next column.  The excitement had subsided, although its influence was still felt in the circulation of the paper and its advertising popularity.  The temporary editor was also nearing the limit of his incumbency, but had so far participated in the good fortune of the “Clarion” as to receive an offer from one of the San Francisco dailies.

It was a warm night, and he was alone in his sanctum.  The rest of the building was dark and deserted, and his solitary light, flashing out through the open window, fell upon the nearer pines and was lost in the dark, indefinable slope below.  He had reached the sanctum by the rear, and a door which he also left open to enjoy the freshness of the aromatic air.  Nor did it in the least mar his privacy.  Rather the solitude of the great woods without seemed to enter through that door and encompassed him with its protecting loneliness.  There was occasionally a faint “peep” in the scant eaves, or a “pat-pat,” ending in a frightened scurry across the roof, or the slow flap of a heavy wing in the darkness below.  These gentle disturbances did not, however, interrupt his work on “The True Functions of the County Newspaper,” the editorial on which he was engaged.

Presently a more distinct rustling against the straggling blackberry bushes beside the door attracted his attention.  It was followed by a light tapping against the side of the house.  The editor started and turned quickly towards the open door.  Two outside steps led to the ground.  Standing upon the lower one was a woman.  The upper part of her figure, illuminated by the light from the door, was thrown into greater relief by the dark background of the pines.  Her face was unknown to him, but it was a pleasant one, marked by a certain good-humored determination.

“May I come in?” she said confidently.

“Certainly,” said the editor.  “I am working here alone because it is so quiet.”  He thought he would precipitate some explanation from her by excusing himself.