"Well, I declare!" muttered the boy. "Can it be possible that they have been calling upon Herman Wenrich?" It certainly would seem so, yet Robert had no way of proving it. Both the Canadian and the Englishman were walking rapidly, and soon they passed out of sight around the corner. Robert found No. 238 Grandon Street a modest dwelling set in the rear of a tiny garden of flowers. As he entered the garden a girl came out on the front porch and gazed up and down the street anxiously. She was probably fifteen years of age, and was pale and thin, as if just getting over a long sickness, which was the case. "Does Mr. Herman Wenrich live here?" asked Robert politely, as he tipped his hat. "Yes, sir," answered the girl. "Is he in?" "He is, but he is not very well." As she spoke the girl eyed Robert sharply, wondering what he wanted. "He doesn't look like one of these traveling agents," she thought. She had been bothered with agents a great deal lately. "I am sorry to hear Mr. Wenrich is not well," said Robert. "I wished to see him on a little business." "May I ask your name?" "My name is Robert Frost. But he doesn't know me. You might tell him that I came here at the request of Richard Marden, who is a nephew of Felix Amberton, of Timberville, Michigan. I wish to see him about a lumber tract up there." "Why, that is what those two men came about!" cried the girl. "You mean the two men I just met on the street?" "I presume they are the same. The men left but a minute before you came." "Can you tell me if they came for a map?" "Why, yes, they----" The girl stopped short. "I do not know as I have any right to talk of these things, Mr. Frost. My father might not like it." "So Mr. Wenrich is your father." "Yes. My name is Nettie Wenrich." Robert bowed. "I certainly would not wish to make any trouble for you," he said, with a smile. "But I would like to see your father." Nettie Wenrich hesitated for a moment. "He looks like a nice boy," she thought. "I like him better than I did those men." "Come into the parlor and I will tell father you are here," said she. Robert found the parlor small but cozy. There were several covered chairs, some pictures and books, and in one corner stood a small organ. The youth sat down near a window and waited. The girl was gone fully five minutes. When she returned her face bore a puzzled look. "Father does not know what to make of this," she said. "You say you came because Mr. Amberton sent you?" "Mr. Marden sent me. He is Mr. Amberton's nephew and has taken full charge, now that Mr. Amberton is sick." "Father says Mr. Hammerditch, one of the men who just called, said Mr. Amberton sent him for the map." "What!" cried Robert, leaping to his feet. "That cannot be possible." "Why?" "Because those men are enemies of Mr. Amberton. They wish to get some of his lumber lands away from him." The girl studied Robert's honest face for a moment. "I believe you. But it is a queer mix-up," was her comment.