Squire Moulton was in despair. He could get nothing whatever out of the man. He was too much for even his sharp villainy to fathom, and no cross-questioning could catch him. He did not like his appearance at all. Sometimes he spoke like a gentleman, and sometimes like a rough, ignorant fellow. He was a puzzle, which it was beyond his power and wit to solve. It would have pleased him better had there been more of the decided rascal about him. But the man had evidently listened to the whole of the conversation he had had with his sister, and he was in his power. All his dearest secrets were now in the possession of this cool, insolent man who called himself Ronald Edgerton; and he cursed himself again and again for having allowed himself to breathe them in the open air. But it was of no use now, to waste time in vain repinings, and he resolved to do the best he could by making an ally of the man. “I’ll tell you what I will do, Edgerton,” he said, at length, assuming a friendly air, at the same time drawing forth his purse. “I will hire you to do such little odd jobs as these, if you like, and pay you well for them, too. You shall have the fifty dollars now, and the remainder when you bring me the pictures, then I shall have something else on the docket, I have no doubt.” “That’s it; now you talk to the point! Thank’ee, sir,” he said, as he took the money. “You will not fail me now—I may depend upon you?” “Depend upon me, that you may. If it’s in the power of man, I’ll have that breastpin before many days. I guess I’ll be traveling now,” he said, as he put the bill out of sight; “but you will see me again soon. Good-day, sir.” He touched his slouch cap politely to the squire, and turning, was quickly lost to view. For some moments Squire Moulton stood lost in deep thought. He could not trust the man fully, try as he would. But he was where he could not help himself, and so resolved to make the best of the matter. Ronald Edgerton walked briskly in the direction of the city, for half a mile, when he came upon a horse tied to a tree. He quickly unhitched the animal, and leaping into the saddle, trotted swiftly away. It was getting dark, and he spurred his horse onward, looking anxiously at every object he passed. Soon his eye brightened, for he caught sight of a familiar figure hurrying in the same direction with himself. He now slackened his speed, in order to keep the figure in view, but did not follow so closely as to be himself discovered. They entered the city, and he rode nearer to Rose Moulton, for she it was whom he was watching. She had walked swiftly after fleeing from her brother’s grounds, in order to gain her lodgings before night came on; but her now lagging gait told that she was foot-sore and weary. Once she stopped and leaned against a lamp-post, but having a faint sigh, she soon started on again. She had not proceeded far before, uttering a deep cry, she fell stumbling upon the rough pavement.