"What puzzles me is the visit of Miss Dundas to Herresford," said Ormsby, thinking of his letter of dismissal, with the old miser's monogram on it. "She evidently went there to see him," said the detective, "and heard from him the news of the young man's escape. That, perhaps, accounted for her high spirits." "Briefly, then, your labors have had no result, and you are as far from the scent as on the first day." "Not exactly that, sir. We'll nab him yet." "As for the people at the rectory," Ormsby said, decisively, "I'll tackle them myself." "Be guarded, sir. We don't want them to suspect that they are watched." "They probably know that already. I'm going to offer them terms. If they'll advise their son to give himself up, seven thousand dollars shall be paid by some 'friend,' and he will get off with a light sentence. It isn't as though I wanted him sent up for any great length of time. I only want him put in the dock. The whole United States will ring with the scandal, and the country'll be too hot to hold him, even if he should be acquitted. He's a reckless young fellow. There's no knowing what he might do. He might--" Ormsby did not finish the sentence. The detective muttered one comprehensive word. "Suicide." Ormsby nodded. "And the best thing, I should think," grunted the detective. The upshot of this conversation was a prompt visit to the rectory by Ormsby, whose arrival caused no little consternation in the household. The rector was flustered and ill at ease. He would have liked to deny the visitor, but was afraid. He knew the banker slightly, well enough to dread the steady fire of those stern eyes. Ormsby offered his hand in friendly fashion, and took stock of the trembling man before speaking. "You can guess why I have come, Mr. Swinton." "It is not difficult to guess, Mr. Ormsby. It is the sad business of the checks. I hear you have issued a warrant for my son's arrest, and you can scarcely expect to be received as a welcome guest in this house. What have you to say to me?" "Only this, Mr. Swinton. If your son likes to give himself up, we will deal with him as leniently as possible to avoid delay and--expense. There'll be no question of refunding the money. My co-directors are willing to put in a plea for the unfortunate young man as a first offender, on certain conditions." "And the conditions?" "That he undertakes not to molest or in any way pursue Miss Dora Dundas." "Molest is rather a hard word, Mr. Ormsby. I am aware of the rivalry between you and my son, and I recognize that he has made a dangerous enemy. Surely, Miss Dundas is the best judge of her own feelings?" "Miss Dundas would have married me but for the return of your scapegrace son," cried Ormsby, flashing out. "He has seen her, and has upset all my plans." "Yes, he has seen her--" The words slipped out before the clergyman knew what he was saying. "Ah, he has seen her," cried Ormsby, sharply. "So, he's either at Asherton Hall--or here."