"This is very distressing. Did she say nothing to her brothers?" "Not a word--and squire, there is something I wanted to ask you--" and then Mr. Churchill hesitated. "Pray ask me, Mr. Churchill, and if there is anything I can do for you, you may depend on me." "Well, sir, you see May and your nephew, Mr. John Temple, were a good bit together about that unfortunate girl's death at Fern Dene, and I've been wondering if he could tell us anything? No offense, you know, squire, only sometimes girls tell their troubles or fancied troubles to other young people, and I thought perhaps she might have said something to Mr. John Temple--that is, if he is at the Hall." "He is certainly at the Hall," replied the squire, gravely. "He returned last Saturday, and is now in the breakfast-room. Would you like to see him?" "If I might make so bold." Mr. Temple rose and rang the bell, and when the footman answered it he said quietly: "Ask Mr. John Temple kindly to come to the library for a few minutes." The footman bowed and disappeared, and a few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between the squire and his tenant. The squire was remembering his advice to John on the subject of May Churchill; her father seeing the two together in the moonlit garden. Then John Temple appeared, calm, assured, and a little pale. He shook hands with Mr. Churchill, and then looked at him inquiringly. "John," said the squire, as the farmer hesitated, "Mr. Churchill has called here about his daughter; it seems that the young lady disappeared from her home yesterday in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, and as you were a good deal thrown with her about that unfortunate affair at Fern Dene, Mr. Churchill wishes to know if she ever gave you any hint regarding her intention of leaving her home?" "Yes, Mr. John, that's just it; just as the squire says," put in Mr. Churchill, eagerly. "Certainly not," replied John Temple, calmly. "I was, as you say, a good deal thrown with Miss Churchill regarding that unfortunate affair, but she never mentioned anything whatever to me about leaving her home." "And she made no complaints?" asked Mr. Churchill. "None. I think she once said she disliked that young Henderson very much; that was at the inquest." "And when did you last see her, Mr. John?" "I have been away, but I saw her last Sunday at church." This was a bold speech, yet John Temple never faltered as he spoke it. He had made up his mind that these inquiries were sure to be made, and he risked the chance that no one had seen his interviews with May on Sunday or Monday. At all events he convinced both his uncle and Mr. Churchill that he had nothing to do with May's disappearance. The farmer thanked him and the squire, and then withdrew, and John and his uncle were left alone.