"I will do all I can to comfort you, my dear," said Mrs. Rockharrt. "I will speak to Mr. Rockharrt when he comes in." No one but the snubbed, brow-beaten and humiliated wife knew all that she engaged to suffer when she promised to speak to her lord and master. Corona, soothed by the sedative that had been given her, and consoled by the love and sympathy that had been lavished upon her, grew more composed, and finally fell into a deep sleep from which she awoke refreshed. But a rumor went through the house that the young lady had got news which she did not choose to communicate. Later in the day Mrs. Rockharrt deferentially proposed to the domestic despot that they should return to Rockhold, as the weather was so oppressive and the town house was so obnoxious to dear Corona, which was quite natural under the trying circumstances. Aaron Rockharrt glared at her until she cowered, and then he told her that he should direct the movements of his family as he thought proper, and that any suggestions from her or from his granddaughter were both unnecessary and impertinent. So they both had to bend under the iron will of Aaron Rockharrt. At length, however, something happened to relieve them. Mr. Rockharrt had not been neglecting his own business, while looking after the missing governor-elect, nor had he been leaving it to his sons and partners, whom he refused to trust. He had been corresponding with his chief manager, Ryland. This correspondence had not been entirely satisfactory, so at length he wrote to Ryland to come to the city for a business talk. It was about the middle of August that the manager arrived and was closeted with his chief. After two hours' discussion of business matters, which ended satisfactorily, the manager, rising to leave the study, observed: "This is a bad job about the governor, sir!" "I do not wish to talk of this matter," said Mr. Rockharrt. "Very well, sir, I am dumb," replied the manager, taking up his hat to leave the house. "Do you go back to North End by the night train?" inquired Mr. Rockharrt. "Yes, sir! I must be at my post to-morrow morning, in order to carry out your instructions." "Quite right," said the head of the great firm. Then with strange inconsistency, since he had declared that he wished to talk no more on the subject of the lost governor, he suddenly inquired: "What do the people of North End say about the disappearance of Governor Rothsay?" "Some say he was beguiled away by that man who called on him late at night, and that he was murdered and his body made away with. But I beg your pardon, sir, for repeating such dreadful things." "Go on! What else do they say?" "Well, sir, one says one thing, and one another; but they all agree that Old Scythia could tell something if she chose." "Old Scythia? And what has she to do with the loss of the governor?" "Nothing that I know of, sir. But the people at North End say that she has." "Why do they say it?"