own thoughts. "Can you see that all the shutters are closed except those
on the tower balcony? Don't you remember who used to live there?"

"Certainly I do. Mad Bruno used to live there," the brother answered.
"As his rooms alone seem to be kept in order, he might come back?"

"Why, he'll never come back," Uncle Philip exclaimed. "You know that we
heard ages ago that he is an entirely broken man and that he lay deadly
sick in Malaga. Mr. Tillman, who went to Spain, must certainly know
about it. Restless Baron Bruno has probably found his last resting-place
long ago. Why should you look for him here?"

"I only think that in that case a new owner of the place would have
turned up by now," was his sister's opinion. "Two young members of the
family, the children of Salo and Eleanor, are still alive. I wonder
where these children are. They would be the sole owners after their
uncle's death."

"They have long ago been disinherited," the brother exclaimed. "I do not
know where they are, but I have an idea on that subject. I shall tell
you about it to-night when we are alone. Here you are so absent-minded.
You throw worried looks in all directions as if you were afraid that this
perfectly solid meadow were a dangerous pond into which your little brood
might fall and lose their lives."

The children had scattered in all directions. Bruno had gone far to one
side and was deeply immersed in a little book he had taken with him. Mea
had discovered the most beautiful forget-me-nots she had ever seen in all
her life, which grew in large masses beside the gurgling mountain stream.
Beside herself with transport, she flew from place to place where the