The cabman hurried to a watering-trough a few feet distant. Snatching up one of the tin cups which was fastened to it by a chain, he soon wrenched it free. But before he had advanced a single step with its contents, a great cry of horror broke from his lips; the horses dashed suddenly forward and were galloping madly down the same street which they had so lately traversed. He reported his loss to the nearest station, not daring to mention the serious condition of the occupants of the cab. But up to noon the following day not even a trace of the vehicle could be discovered. Old Mrs. Varrick was fairly paralyzed over the disappearance of little Jessie, whom she had learned to love as a daughter. She would not believe that she had left the house of her own accord--wandered away from it. "There has been foul play here," she cried. And immediately old Stephen, the servant, said to himself: "It all comes from the stranger who was loitering about the place about a week ago;" and he made up his mind to do a little detective work on his own account. "If he is in the city, I will find him," he muttered. "I will tramp night and day up and down the streets until I meet him. Then I will openly accuse him of abducting poor pretty Miss Jessie." He went to his old mistress and asked for leave of absence for a few days. Mrs. Varrick shook her head mournfully. "I should not think you would want to leave me, when you see me in all this trouble, Stephen," she said. "You should stand by me, though every one else fails me. Only this morning the butler gave notice that he intended to leave here on the morrow, and he, like yourself, has been with me for years." "I am not surprised to hear that, ma'am," returned Stephen, laconically, "for ever since that fatal night in the library the butler has had a very horror of the place. He's as tender-hearted as a little child, ma'am, the butler is. Why, he takes Master Hubert's trials to heart terribly. He walks the floor night and day, muttering excitedly: 'Heaven save poor Master Hubert!'" Although every precaution was taken to keep the news of Jessie's disappearance from Hubert Varrick, the knowledge soon reached him. "My God! did I not have enough to bear before," he murmured, "that this new weight of woe has fallen upon me?" In his sorrow he was thankful that at least one person besides his mother seemed to believe so utterly in his innocence--and that was the butler. He came to see him daily and wept over him, muttering strangely incoherent words, declaring over and over again that he must be proven innocent, though the heavens fell. "As near as I can see, it will end in a prison cell for life or the gallows," said Hubert, gulping down a sob. "But they mustn't hang--you shan't hang!" cried the butler, excitedly. "I will--" The sentence was never finished. He sat back, trembling in every limb, in his seat, his face ashy white, his features working convulsively.