"But you surely have some idea of where they've moved to? Didn't they say something about their intentions? Didn't the colonel tell your husband in reference to the transfer of the money?" "They didn't neither of 'em say a word. They're the most close-mouthed pair I ever ran into. My husband paid the money down in cash the day we moved in. They took it, and that's all I know about them." "Can't you tell me some one about here who may know more--some of the tradespeople--butchers, grocers, that sort of thing?" "You might try Coggles, the grocer at the corner. I think they had an account with him. But they didn't deal regular with any one else." Gault thanked her and turned to go. She followed him down the walk, anxious to be agreeable, for his manner and appearance had impressed her immensely. "If I hear anything about them I'll let you know," she said affably. "Thanks; it's very good of you," he answered, opening the gate. But he had no intention of giving her either his name or address, as he did not for a moment think that this disappearance of the Reeds was other than temporary. At the corner he stopped and inquired for them at Coggles the grocer's. Coggles himself answered his inquiries. He had even less information to give than Mrs. Robson. A week before the colonel had paid such small amounts as he yet owed, and had casually mentioned the fact that he had sold his house and was about to leave the city. This was all Coggles knew. He showed some desire to talk over the colonel's pecuniary difficulties, but Gault cut him short and left the store. Gault walked away, feeling dazed and hardly master of himself. It had been so absolutely unexpected that he did not yet send his mind back over their past intercourse to ask what she might have been thinking since he saw her last. As is the case of the man in love, he had seen the situation only from his own side. But he did not for a moment doubt that he would hear from her within the next few days. He was still with his brother a good deal of the time, and the days that followed passed with the swiftness which characterizes hours filled with various anxieties. Four days after learning of her flight, two weeks from the evening that he had seen her last, the janitor at his office handed him a small but heavy package. It had been left early in the morning by a boy, the janitor said, who had merely asked if this was Mr. John Gault's office, and had then hastened away. An instinct told him it was from her, and he shut himself into his inner office before he opened it. It was a rough wooden box, and contained the money given by him to the colonel--five hundred and ten dollars in gold coin. Lying on the top was a slip of paper bearing the words: "Good-by. VIOLA."