father's uncertain, stumbling figure until he was
swallowed up in the gloom. The words rang in his
ears like a knell. The realization of his position
and what it meant, and might mean, rushed over him.
For an instant he leaned heavily against the planking
until he had caught his breath. Then, with quivering
lips and shaking legs, he walked slowly back into
the house, shutting the big door behind him.

"Boys," he said with a forced smile, "who do
you think's been outside? My father! Somebody
told him, and he's just been giving me hell for playing
cards on Sunday."




CHAPTER VII



THE EYES OF AN OLD PORTRAIT


Before another Sunday night had arrived Warehold
village was alive with two important pieces of
news.

The first was the disappearance of Bart Holt.