Produced by Chris Curnow, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) THE MYSTERY OF THE LOCKS BY E. W. HOWE AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF A COUNTRY TOWN" BOSTON JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY 1885 _Copyright, 1885_, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY. _All Rights Reserved._ C. J. PETERS AND SON, ELECTROTYPERS. CONTENTS. I. THE TOWN OF DARK NIGHTS II. THE LOCKS III. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW IV. DAVY'S BEND V. A TROUBLED FANCY VI. PICTURES IN THE FIRE VII. THE LOCKS' GHOST VIII. A REMARKABLE GIRL IX. THE "APRON AND PASSWORD" X. TUG WHITTLE'S BOOTY XI. THE WHISPERS IN THE AIR XII. RUINED BY KINDNESS XIII. THE REBELLION OF THE BARITONE XIV. THE ANCIENT MAIDEN XV. A SHOT AT THE SHADOW XVI. THE STEP ON THE STAIR XVII. THE PURSUING SHADOW XVIII. THE RISE IN THE RIVER XIX. MR. WHITTLE MAKES A CONFESSION XX. THE SEARCH IN THE WOODS XXI. LITTLE BEN XXII. TUG'S RETURN XXIII. THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN THE MYSTERY OF THE LOCKS. CHAPTER I. THE TOWN OF DARK NIGHTS. Davy's Bend--a river town, a failing town, and an old town, on a dark night, with a misty rain falling, and the stars hiding from the dangerous streets and walks of the failing town down by the sluggish river which seems to be hurrying away from it, too, like its institutions and its people, and as the light of the wretched day that has just closed hurried away from it a few hours since. The darkness is so intense that the people who look out of their windows are oppressed from staring at nothing, for the shadows are obliterated, and for all they know there may be great caverns in the streets, filled with water from the rising river, and vagabond debris on their front steps. It occurs to one of them who opens the blind to his window a moment, and looks out (and who notices incidentally that the rays from his lamp seem afraid to venture far from the casement) that a hard crust will form somewhere above the town, up where there is light for the living, and turn the people of Davy's Bend into rocks as solid as those thousands of feet below, which thought affects him so much that he closes his blinds and shutters tighter than before, determined that his rooms shall become caves. The rain comes down steadily, plashing into little pools in the road with untiring energy, where it joins other vagrant water, and creeps off at last into the gutter, into the rivulet, and into the river, where it joins the restless tide which is always hurrying away from Davy's Bend, and bubbles and foams with joy.