His suspicions became directed toward the hired man, Manseur, as the real assassin. He watched him, questioned him, and discerned that the latter was beginning to get suspicious of him and uneasy. Montague believed that Manseur had murdered his employer to rob him, and had taken advantage of his quarrel with Ellison, to involve the latter. He saw that when the case came to trial he could entangle Manseur in contradictory statements and weaken his fake story of having seen Ellison lurking near the Conroyd cabin the night of the murder. Then, again, he had secured a bit of evidence that in a measure corroborated Ellison’s claim that the night of the murder he was forty miles away from Millville in quest of his missing son, Marcus. Old James Conroyd had sent him a letter telling him that the last he had heard of Marcus was at Highcliffe, a town some distance away. The letter, too, spoke of his being sorry for his unreasonable anger, and it was written evidently only a few hours previous to the murder. This letter, other evidence and the thousand dollars were contained in the wallet that Lawyer Montague had given to Dean Mercer to take to Lawyer Durand at Springfield. Montague and everybody else believed that Dean had made off with the money. If he lost or destroyed James Conroyd’s evidence, or the other papers, Ellison was doomed to the electric chair. Without the money Ellison could not fight his case successfully, but Montague determined to replace the thousand dollars, if it beggared him. Then anxiously he began to advertise. Such items as the following appeared in the city papers: “D. M.--Return the papers and keep the money.” “D. M.--You will not be prosecuted if you return the Conroyd letter and papers.” “D. M.--An innocent man is doomed if you lose or destroy the Conroyd documents. For the sake of humanity, return them!” Thus a week went by. Drinking harder than ever, Colonel Darringford chuckled over the downfall of a business rival and kept silent. His son, Rodney, and Tim Downey had disappeared from Millville. Judge Oglesby waited and hoped, and finally despaired of ever recovering his stolen money. The officers of the law found not the slightest traces of Dean Mercer. The Conroyd papers were not returned, and Lawyer Montague gloomily decided that his client was doomed. Where was the missing Dean Mercer? What had become of the bright-faced, ambitious boy, who had left Millville one sunshiny day amid high hopes and golden promises, and had disappeared as effectually as if the earth had engulfed him? Where, indeed? Only the sinister plotters who had schemed for his ruin could just then disclose the truth, and they were silent. CHAPTER XV. BEHIND PRISON BARS. A series of adventures had befallen Dean Mercer that seem unaccountable.