They had been sitting thus for about fifteen minutes, quietly talking. Michael intended to take Buck upstairs soon and question him, but, first he wanted time to think what he must do. Then suddenly a loud knock startled them all, and as Michael rose to go to the door there followed him the resounding clatter of the tongs falling on the hearth. A voice with a knife edge to it cut through the room and made them all shiver. “Good evening, Mr. Endicott!” it said. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’ve come on a most unpleasant errand. We’re after an escaped criminal, and he was seen to enter your door a few minutes ago. Of course I know your goodness of heart. You take ’em all in, but this one is a jail bird! You’ll excuse me if I take him off your hands. I’ll try to do it as quietly and neatly as possible.” The big, blustery voice ceased and Michael, looking at the sinister gleam of dull metal in the hands of the men who accompanied the county sheriff, knew that the crisis was upon him. The man, impatient, was already pushing past him into the room. It was of no sort of use to resist. He flung the door wide and turned with the saddest look Starr thought she ever had seen on the face of a man: “I know,” he said, and his voice was filled with sorrow, “I know—but—he was one whom I loved!” “Wasted love! Mr. Endicott. Wasted love. Not one of ’em worth it!” blustered the big man walking in. Then Michael turned and faced the group around the fireplace and looking from one to another turned white with amazement, for Buck was not among them! Starr sat beside her father in just the same attitude she had held throughout the last fifteen minutes, his hand in hers, her face turned, startled, toward the door, and something inscrutable in her eyes. Sam stood close beside the fireplace, the tongs which he had just picked up in his hands, and a look of sullen rage upon his face. Nowhere in the whole wide room was there a sign of Buck, and there seemed no spot where he could hide. The door into the dining-room was on the opposite wall, and behind it the cheerful clatter of the clearing off of the table could be plainly heard. If Buck had escaped that way there would have been an outcry from Morton or the maid. Every window had its shade closely drawn. The sheriff looked suspiciously at Michael whose blank face plainly showed he had no part in making way with the outlaw. The men behind him looked sharply round and finished with a curious gaze at Starr. Starr, rightly interpreting the scene, rose to the occasion. “Would they like to look behind this couch?” she said moving quickly to the other side of the fireplace over toward the window, with a warning glance toward Sam. Then while the men began a fruitless search around the room, looking in the chimney closet, and behind the furniture, she took up her stand beside the corner window.