Still the mystery regarding his father, and her relations to him, seemed as dark as ever. If he could not learn whence they came, it would be impossible to trace his history any farther, and a feeling of depression and discouragement began to settle upon him. It seemed as if those two lovers had hidden themselves there, cut themselves adrift from all previous associations, and then lived simply for and in each other. “Did Captain Dale’s mine here pay him well?” he asked. “No, sir, it did not; and that is something that always seemed strange to me,” Jack said, reflectively. “He couldn’t much more’n paid expenses here, but he never seemed to care, and I’ve always had a notion that he had an interest in other mines.” “What other mines?” Geoffrey inquired, eagerly. “I couldn’t say, sir; he was very close, and never talked business afore his help.” “What made you think he had other claims?” “Well, after the first month or two he used to be away considerable—not long at a time; but he went often, and was always so chipper when he came back, I reasoned ’twas only good luck could make him so.” “What arrangements did he make with you when he left me in your wife’s care?” “There wa’n’t any bargain,” Jack said. “Margery was that fond of ye she’d been willin’ to kep’ ye for nothin’ rather than let ye go; but the cap was always generous—he gave her two hundred dollars to start with, besides a handsome present on her own account, for what she did for his wife while she lay dyin’. Then, for the first two years he came once in six months to see ye, and always left a good round sum for ye—there wa’n’t nothin’ mean about Captain Dale—and when he didn’t come he sent it.” “Did he never mention where he spent his time?” Geoffrey asked, “or speak of ever taking me away with him?” “No, sir, never a word; the most he ever said was that he should put ye to some school as soon as ye were old enough.” “Did he—did he appear to be fond of me?” Geoffrey inquired, hesitatingly, a hot flush rising to his cheek. “That he were, sir; it was as much as ever he’d let ye out of his arms from the time he came till he went, though he never staid very long, and I’ve seen the tears a-standin’ in his eyes when he parted from ye.” “How long before—my accident was his last visit?” “It must have been more’n a year, if I remember right; but the money came regular, and Margery seemed happier when he didn’t come—she was always afraid he’d take ye away from her. I’ve often wondered what he did when he came again and found ye gone—it must have been a mortal blow to him,” Jack concluded, and then dropped into a fit of musing. CHAPTER XXVIII. GEOFFREY VISITS THE SCENE OF THE TRAGEDY. “Where do you intend to go from here, Jack?” Geoffrey asked at length, breaking a silence of several minutes, during which both had been busy with various thoughts and emotions.