If the penknife was his—or like the one he wore! If he really had returned to Clinkerport secretly last evening! If it was a fact that Cora Devine was hounding Ralph for money! And if, as Lorna supposed, the Endicotts were in financial straits and Ralph was without funds! These suppositions and possibilities wrought upon the young woman’s mind until, when she arrived home, she found it almost impossible to hide from the family her perturbation. Her father had not yet returned from Boston. Had he been at home she would have put her fears and suspicions before him. For, after all, John Nicholet bred a greater confidence in his daughter’s mind and heart than did the self-repressed Miss Ida. With the latter Lorna could not bring herself to discuss the mystery of Ralph Endicott’s affairs. She gave to her aunt the bald statement of the bank’s loss, and that was all. But Lorna felt that she must search and find all she could that might explain the mystery which, like a haze, surrounded Ralph’s absence from home. She went to Jerome, the Endicott’s doddering old servant whom the professor’s "Cousin Luce," who was supposed to preside over the household, was forever threatening to pension off. Miss Ida had scornfully stated that "Lucy Markham ran the Endicott house by fits and starts—the fits being frequent and the starts but seldom!" a statement which was scarcely a libel. If Cousin Luce did not feel like leaving her bed, or had a more than usually interesting novel to read, she remained unseen by the family, sometimes for a couple of days. But the family somehow muddled along without her. Ralph was too old to lose much by the lack of system in the home. And of course Professor Endicott did not even notice when household matters went wrong. The children helped each other, and somehow were happy. As it chanced, Mrs. Markham was not visible when Lorna made her appearance at the Endicott house. Whether it was a new novel or a twinge of rheumatism that kept Cousin Luce in her room Lorna did not inquire. An interview with Professor Endicott, had she wished it, was quite out of the question, for he was deep in his experiments. "Jerome," said Lorna to the old servant, "do you know if Ralph lost that little gold penknife that he wears on the end of his watch chain?" "No, Miss. I do not know. Was it lately he lost it?" "That is what I wish to know. _Did_ he lose it?" "I couldn’t say, Miss. He said nothing about losing it to me." "Then it is pretty sure he did not lose it before he went away yesterday—if he lost it at all," murmured the young woman thoughtfully. "You would probably have missed it yourself, Jerome." "I don’t know about that, Miss. I don’t have much to do with Master Ralph’s things. No, Miss. Maybe Mrs. Malloy——" But the housekeeper knew no more than Jerome. Lorna dared go no further with her inquiries. She feared that she might rouse suspicion in the minds of the servants.