With all this he had the unusual combination of being both extremely clever as a business man, and entirely unselfish in his personal life. Strong beyond most, he could walk among pitch when he liked without being soiled, yet he often chose to play with that pitch and minded not if others saw it on his hands, or misunderstood his actions. Beautiful as the devil must have been before he fell, with dark eyes, bronze-gold hair, inclined to curl, and a smile of more than ordinary beauty, yet sad, too, with the sadness of the lost sometimes. Nobody quite knew what it was about Darcy Sherwood that made them like him so, or just what they so utterly disapproved of. And he went his way without seeming to care which they did. Only little children and old women saw the real Darcy, and won his rare confidence. Darcy had a brother-in-law after his own heart, who knew how to keep his mouth shut--not as clever as Darcy, not always so good, but much richer in respectability, and most kind to Darcy’s sister, a good dull girl who loved Darcy devotedly, but who never understood him. Sharp little Lib was a product of this home and her uncle’s training. Where she got her sharpness was always a problem to Darcy. Certainly not from her simple-minded mother, nor yet from her somewhat commonplace father. Yet Darcy was fond of them both, and respected their ability to keep their mouths shut. It was something that Darcy had always taught everybody, sooner or later, with whom he came in contact. And now Darcy was gone. “I’ll be away for awhile, I don’t know how long. Business trip. All you know about it, Mase, see?” Mason Knox nodded. “I getcha!” he said, and went on cleaning the carburetor of his car. After awhile his brother-in-law raised his head and gave Darcy a keen glance. “Anything gone wrong, Darcy?” “No, Mase, nothing wrong. New line, that’s all. Been working on the wrong dope, I guess. Going to try a new line. But first I’ve got something to do. May take a long time. May be only a few days. Don’t let Ellen worry. I’ll write if there’s any need.” He went the next day. Mason Knox and Dan Peterson were the only two in Meadow Brook who knew anything about his going, and that was all they knew. When people began to make inquiries Mason Knox answered with: “I couldn’t say. He might and he might not be back soon. That depends.” When Dan Peterson heard that Darcy had disappeared from his usual haunts, heard first through his own son, who was a devotee of the baseball field on afternoons, he looked thoughtful, and wise, and went and told his father. And Darcy had a strange method of going. He did not take the train, nor buy a ticket. He waited until night--no one quite remembered when they saw Darcy Sherwood last, when it came right down to the question some months afterward. Even the sharp-eyed Tyke, who was vigilant night and day as soon as his eyes were open to the necessity, had somehow missed his movements.