Frank put in two hours about town trying to look up Markham. The result was quite as discouraging as upon the day previous. He closed an arrangement for the hire of a horse and a light wagon, and packed up some goods at the office, ready for his trip into the country. Mrs. Ismond, with a woman’s instinctive capacity for neatness, had the office in attractive order by late afternoon, and all the work attended to. “Don’t get discouraged, Frank,” she said, as they were on their way home. “It won’t take a great deal of money to keep up the business in a small way. I sent out a hundred circulars this afternoon, and I will keep on at that average while you are away.” “Why,” spoke Frank, “how can you do that, with no mailing list addresses?” “Oh, I set my wits at work and made quite a discovery,” responded Mrs. Ismond with a bright smile. “The Pleasantville _Herald_ has quite a list of exchanges. I asked Darry to send me some. They come from all over the State. I selected a number of promising names from little news items in the papers. For instance: I took girls’ names from church and society items, and boys’ names from baseball club items and the like. Good, fresh names, Frank--don’t you see?” “I do see,” said Frank, “and it’s a grand idea, mother.” After supper Mrs. Ismond went upstairs to make up a little parcel of collars, handkerchiefs and the like for her son’s journey. Frank looked up from the county map from which he was formulating a route, as his mother reappeared. At a glance he saw that she was very much agitated. “Oh, Frank!” she panted, sinking into a chair pale and distressed-looking. “Why, what’s the matter, mother?” exclaimed Frank, arising quickly to his feet. Mrs. Ismond had a worn yellow sheet of paper in her hand. “Markham,” she said, in a sad, pained way. “I was getting out some neckties for you, and by mistake opened the bureau drawer where he kept his belongings. I found this.” “What is it, mother?” asked Frank, taking the paper from her hand. He saw for himself, and his face turned quite as white and troubled as her own. “Too bad--too bad,” said Frank, looking down at the time-worn sheet of paper in a disheartened way. CHAPTER XXI AN UNEXPECTED MEETING It was a depressing discovery that Mrs. Ismond had made. Frank sat staring at the paper in his hand in silence for some minutes. This was a printed sheet. It was headed: “Reward--One Hundred Dollars.” In short, the warden of the Juvenile Reformatory at Linwood, offered that amount for the return to that institution of an escaped inmate--Richard Markham Welmore. “Yes, it is our Markham,” murmured Frank--“that is his middle name. The description answers him exactly,” and again Frank said in a troubled way: “Too bad--too bad.” Frank knew what his mother was thinking of--that they had harbored a convicted criminal, who had weakly yielded to temptation, beggaring them, and going back to his old evil ways.