“And do you”--Auntie Sue addressed the detective--“do you know the man's name, Mr. Ross?” “Oh, yes,” returned the officer, “his name is Brian Kent.” Some source of strength, deep-hidden in her gentle nature, enabled Auntie Sue to control her emotions, though her voice broke a little as she slowly repeated the man's name, “Brian Kent. And do I understand, sir, that you have traced the man to this--neighborhood?” The detective was too skilled not to notice Auntie Sue's manner and the break in her voice; but he never dreamed that this old gentlewoman's agitation was caused by a deeper interest than a quite natural fear that a dangerous criminal might be lurking in the immediate vicinity. “Not exactly, Mrs.--ah--” “Miss Wakefield,”--she supplied her name with a smile. With a courteous bow, the detective continued: “We do not know for sure that the man is in this neighborhood, Miss Wakefield. There is really no cause for you to be alarmed. Even if he should call at your house, here, you need not be frightened, for I assure you the man is not at all a dangerous character.” “I am glad,” said Auntie Sue; and she laughed a little with a relief more genuine than her callers knew. Detective Ross continued as if anxious to finish his unpleasant duty: “It is too bad for us to be disturbing you with this business, Miss Wakefield, and I hope you will forgive us; but, the case is like this: We traced our man to the little town of Borden, some forty miles up the river from here. He disappeared from the hotel one night, leaving his suit-case and, apparently, everything he had with him, and not a soul that we can find has seen him since. Of course, everybody says 'suicide.' He had been drinking heavily and acting rather queer the two or three days he was at the hotel,--it seems. But I am not willing, yet, to accept the suicide idea as final, because it would be too easy for him to give things that appearance in order to throw us off; and I can't get away from the fact that a John-boat that was tied to the bank near the hotel managed to break loose and drift off down the river that same night. Working on my theory, we are following down the river, trying to get trace of either the boat or the man. So far, we haven't heard of either, which rather strengthens me in my belief that the boat and the man went away together. He is probably traveling nights, and lying up under the willows in daylight. But he will be compelled to show himself somewhere, soon, in order to get something to eat, for he couldn't have taken much with him, trying, as he was, to create the impression that he had committed suicide. You have a wonderful view of the river here, Miss Wakefield.” “Yes, sir; it is beautiful from the porch.” “You spend a good deal of time on the porch, do you?” “Yes, sir.” “And you would be quite likely to notice any boat passing, wouldn't you?” “Yes, sir.” “Could you see a boat at night,--in the moonlight, I mean?”