The recollection of that look and that smile bothered Sears Kendrick. He could not guess what was behind them. One thing seemed to be certain, his threats of prosecution and his bluffs concerning the Boston bonds had not alarmed Phillips greatly. He had not given in because he was afraid of imprisonment. No; no, the only symptoms of nervousness he had shown were his repeated glances at the clock, at his watch, and when he looked out of the parsonage window. More and more the captain was forced to the conclusion that Egbert had paid him to get rid of him, that he did not wish to be detained or to have Kendrick remain there, and his reasons must have been so important that he was willing to part with sixteen hundred dollars to get his visitor out of the way. But what possible reason could be as important as that? Why had he run away from Bayport? Why was he taking the three-fifteen train--at Denboro? Why was he spending the time before the departure of that train in the parlor of the Methodist parsonage? And he had made an appointment with the minister himself. Was he expecting some one else at that parsonage? Eh? The captain straightened on the buggy seat. He spoke aloud one word, a name. "Cordelia!" he cried. For another five minutes Captain Sears Kendrick, his frown growing deeper and deeper as the conviction was forced upon him, sat motionless in the buggy. Then he spoke sharply to his horse, turned the latter about, and drove rapidly back to Denboro. He could do nothing worth while, he could prevent nothing, but he could answer that riddle. He believed he had answered it already. It was half-past three when he again knocked at the parsonage door. The Reverend Backus himself answered the knock. "Why, no," he said, "Mr. Phillips has gone. Yes, I think--I am sure he took the train. You are his friend, aren't you? I am sorry you missed the--er--happy event. Mrs. Phillips--the new Mrs. Phillips--is a charmingly refined lady, isn't she? And Mr. Phillips himself is _such_ a gentleman. I don't know when I have had the pleasure of--er--officiating at a pleasanter ceremony. I shall always remember it." Mrs. Backus looked over her husband's shoulder. "The bride came just after you left," she explained. "She was just a little late, she said; but it was all right, there was plenty of time. And she did look _so_ happy!" Captain Kendrick did not look happy. He had answered the riddle correctly. An elopement, of course. It was plain enough now. Oh, if he might have been there when that poor, silly, misguided woman arrived! He might not have been able to stop the marriage, but at least he could--and would--have told the bride a few pointed truths concerning the groom. Mrs. Backus, all smiles, asked her husband a question. "What did you say her name was, dear?" she asked. The minister hesitated. "Why--why--" he stammered, "it was---- Dear me, how forgetful I am!" Sears supplied the information. "Berry," he said, gloomily. "Cordelia Berry."