'Gene did some very quick thinking in the next few minutes. He realized that her departure had been the subject of comment and speculation, and that it would be necessary for him to resort to something he knew nothing about--diplomacy. Had he been an observing man he would have noticed the sudden cessation of talk about the stove when he first entered the toll house. The loungers had been discussing her departure, and there would have been a murderer in their midst had 'Gene Crawley heard the remark that fell from Luther Hitchcock's lips. "Don't know how long she'll stay," responded 'Gene, briefly. He leaned against the counter, crossing his legs. "How's Jed gittin' 'long up yander?" continued Jim. "All right, I reckon." "Justine hain't been lookin' very well lately," said Link Overshine, from the nail-keg. "Hain't looked herself sence the kid come," added Hitchcock. "When did she last hear from Jud?" asked Link. "Talkin' to me?" asked Crawley. "Yes." "Well, how do you s'pose I know anything about her letters?" "Don't you git the mail?" "Harve Crose leaves it as he goes by, an' you know it, Overshine." "She ain't had a letter from him in more'n a week," volunteered the postmaster. "He don't write very reg'lar here of late." "Does the gover'ment hire you to tell who gits letters through this office an' when they git 'em?" demanded Crawley, sharply. Jim hitched back in his chair nervously. "Why, they ain't no harm in that," explained he. "You talk too much fer a job like this, Jim," said Crawley. There followed a few moments of silence. "One of Grimes' men says you morgidged your team to the old man," began Overshine. "Which one of Grimes' men said that?" asked 'Gene, quietly. "Why, I--er--lemme see, who did say it?" floundered Link, in distress. "Oh, it don't matter," said 'Gene, carelessly. "I just asked." The subject was dropped at once. The crowd watched him leave the place and conversation was stagnant until Hardesty, who was near the window, remarked that 'Gene was walking pretty rapidly down the road. With the knowledge that he was out of sight and hearing, the loungers discussed him and his affairs freely. It was not until the fourth day that he received a letter from Chicago, directed in strange handwriting. A number of men were in the store when the epistle was handed out to him by Mrs. Hardesty. Without hesitation he tore open the envelope and began to read. The letter was for him, beyond a doubt, but Justine had not addressed the envelope. What had happened to her? He read the letter with at least a dozen eyes watching him closely, but his dark face betrayed no sign of emotion. At the end he calmly replaced the note in the envelope and strolled off homeward. Once out of the hearing of the curious, he leaned against a fence, read it again, folded it carefully, opened it and read it again, and then lowered his hands and gazed out over the fields. CHAPTER XXVI. TWO WOMEN AND A BABE.