“What will happen if we can’t find the papers?” asked Grace of her father, when she had explained everything. “Well, there will be a lot of trouble,” he said, “and of course the whole matter will have to be held up. In the meanwhile, even if the other interests do not get the documents, they may make it unpleasant for us. I wish, Will, that you had done this errand yourself—not that I blame you Grace,” he said quickly, “but Will knew how very important it was.” “I’m very sorry, Dad. I’ll never cut business for a ball game again, and I’ll do all I can to help out. I’m sure Prince will soon come home, though, and it will be all right. I’ll go out to the stable now, and if he isn’t there I’ll saddle Toto and go hunting. I’ll start from where the accident happened, and trace Prince. Lucky he’s pure white, he’ll show up well, even in the dark.” “No, I don’t want you to do that,” objected Mr. Ford. “You may go to the stable, if you like, but don’t start any search until morning. In the meanwhile we may hear something, or he may come back. It’s too bad a night to go out. But let this be a lesson to you, Will.” “I will; yes, sir. Poor little Sis, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Are you much hurt?” and Will laid his hand tenderly on her head. She winced, for he had touched a bruised place. “Don’t worry,” she said, as brightly as she could. “I am all right, and the papers may be found. It is poor little Dodo I feel so badly about. She—she may be a cripple, the doctor says.” “No!” exclaimed Will, aghast. “It seems terrible, but that is his opinion.” “Oh, they can do such wonderful things in surgery now a-days,” said Mrs. Ford, “that I’m sure, in such a young child, there are many chances in her favor. Don’t worry, daughter dear. Now you must go to bed, or you will be ill over this. Those motorists ought to be punished, if any one is.” “Yes,” agreed Mr. Ford. “Now I must see what I can do to offset this loss. You don’t suppose, do you Grace, that those men could have had any object in getting those papers away from you?” “What do you mean?” asked Grace, in wonderment. “I mean, did they seem to follow you—as if they had knowledge that the papers would be transferred to-day, and were determined to get them?” “I don’t think so, Daddy. I’m sure they didn’t follow me. They just seemed to come out of the storm—trying to get away from it—as I was doing. I’m sure it was all an accident—just carelessness. “Very likely. I was foolish to suggest it, but so much depends on those papers that I don’t know just what to think. But there, Grace,” as he kissed her, “you must rest yourself. I will think of a way out, I’m sure. Will, come with me. I may need you to make some memoranda while I telephone,” and he and his son went to the library.