She went down the stairs at a great rate, and did not stay to pick her steps over the grease of the Shucks' floor. 'What a mistake to make!' was her inward comment, and she laughed as she said it. 'I did not sufficiently allow for the lapse of years. If that younger one had lost his life in the gravel pits, he would have died an innocent man.' Away to the yard now, as fast as her legs would carry her. In turning in, she ran against Austin Clay. 'I want to speak with Mr. Hunter,' she imperiously said. 'Mr. Lewis Hunter--not the one I saw in the gig.' 'Mr. Hunter is out of town, Miss Gwinn,' was Austin's reply. 'We do not expect him at the yard to-day; he will not be home in time to come to it.' 'Boy! you are deceiving me!' 'Indeed I am not,' he returned. 'Why should I? Mr. Hunter is not in the habit of being denied to applicants. You might have spoken to him yesterday when you saw him, had it pleased you so to do.' 'I never saw him yesterday.' 'Yes, you did, Miss Gwinn. That gentleman who came into the office and bowed to you was Mr. Hunter.' She stared Austin full in the face, as if unable to believe what he said. '_That_ Mr. Hunter?--Lewis Hunter?' 'It was.' 'If so, _how_ he is altered!' And, throwing up her arms with a strange, wild gesture, she turned and strode out of the yard. The next moment Austin saw her come into it again. 'I want Mr. Lewis Hunter's private address, Austin Clay.' But Austin was on his guard now. He did not relish the idea of giving anybody's private address to such a person as Miss Gwinn, who might or might not be mad. She detected his reluctance. 'Keep it from me if you choose, boy,' she said, with a laugh that had a ring of scorn. 'Better for you perhaps to be on the safe side. The first workman I meet will give it me, or a court guide.' And thus saying, she finally turned away. At any rate for the time being. Austin Clay resumed his work, and the day passed on to evening. When business was over, he went home to make some alteration in his dress, for he had to go by appointment to Mr. Hunter's, and on these occasions he generally remained with them. It was beginning to grow dusk, and a chillness seemed to be in the air. The house occupied by Mr. Hunter was one of the best in the west-central square. Ascending to it by a flight of steps, and passing through a pillared portico, you found yourself in a handsome hall, paved in imitation of mosaic. Two spacious sitting-rooms were on the left: the front one was used as a dining-room, the other opened to a conservatory. On the right of the hall, a broad flight of stairs led to the apartments above, one of which was a fine drawing-room, fitted up with costly elegance.