Presently, a man came down the street. On he came until he was even with the house, and then, for a brief spell, he paused at the gate. Until then, he had apparently not observed the man sitting on the porch. He glanced up and saw him. Then, with something akin to an air of guilt, the stranger passed on, and, as he did so, Wilson gave a start. His thoughts flew back over the past, with electric rapidity. Where had he seen that man before? "Where, where, where?" His thoughts were fairly alive. His lips grasped the cigar so tightly, that the lighted end fell to the floor, for he had bitten it in two, in his excitement. He kicked it from him with impatience, while he ransacked his brains in deep thought. "Where, where, where?" he cried, now almost aloud. And, strange as it seemed, in some way he connected this man with the disappearance of Mildred Latham. He raised his hands to his head to steady the thumping there, which by now had reached a state of violence. Just then the sexton rang the bell of his church next door. The same broke forth upon the clear morning air in stentorian tones, and floated beyond, and then Wilson Jacobs sat up quickly, bolt upright. "I have it! _I have it!_" he cried in a subdued voice, while his very frame trembled. "It was at the meeting. That man came in late, I recall it all now. He came in late and I saw him. He, I recall now, appeared to have no interest in the service; but his eyes sought something, and then I caught him looking at Mildred with a cunning expression!" Why had he not thought of this before? It was all clear to him now, as he arose. And then it occurred to him to follow. He tore into the house, and seizing his hat, hurried out and through the yard, came into the street and looked in the direction which he had seen the other take. No one was in sight. He hesitated a moment, and then hurried forward in that direction. He presently came abreast of a house where people sat upon the porch. He halted a moment as they called out his name pleasantly, bidding him good morning. He calmed himself, and after returning the greeting, inquired quite casually whether a man had passed that way recently, and he gave a description of him. "No; but such a man as you describe came down as far as the corner back there," one of them explained, "and turned in that direction," and he pointed west. "Thank you," he nodded calmly, and then retreated until he came to the place the other had turned. He stood for a moment, apparently lost in thought, while the people on the porch stared at him carelessly. A moment later, he passed in the direction the other had taken.