"No, sir," replied Ralph; "and I feel very troubled, for I cannot imagine what has kept him away. He said he would only be a short time." "You do not know where he was going, or whether he knew any one in the locality?" But Ralph shook his head. "I do not know, sir. Father did not tell me anything. We have lived all my life on the ranch in Texas, and when mother died last year father sold the ranch and brought me to England; but he did not tell me why." "It is strange; but still, it is foolish to make trouble. He may have found his business take longer than he anticipated, and--well, Simon?" "Beg pardon, Mr. St. Clive, but one of the men from Little Stow has just come in, and he has brought me this. He says that he found it in Stow Wood, just by the Black Mere." And what was it that he had found? What was it that should wring a cry of grief from Ralph Rexworth? Only a hat--broken, as from a blow, and with an ominous red smear upon it. Only a hat; but that hat was never bought in England. It was the hat which his father was wearing when he left the inn the previous evening; and there it lay now upon the table, a grim, silent explanation of why that father had not returned. CHAPTER II A CRUEL IMPLICATION "My dear lad, it is foolish to give way to grief before you are sure that there is cause for it"--so said Mr. St. Clive to Ralph Rexworth, trying to comfort the boy and restore his confidence. "I admit that this, coupled with your father's absence, looks serious; but still, we do not know what explanation there may be to it. Come, try and be brave; trust in God, even though the very worst may have befallen; idle grief is useless. Let us go to Stow Wood and examine the place; perhaps we may discover something which this man may have overlooked. Pluck up your courage, and hope for the best; and Ralph, remember, that whatever happens you have a friend in myself, who counts it a privilege to be able to do anything to show how grateful he is to you for what you did yesterday." Ralph, with an effort, subdued his feelings, and replied gratefully-- "You are very kind to me, sir. Let us do as you suggest. Will you take me to the place? I do not know anything of the country here, of course." "I will go with you, and we will have this man accompany us, and show us exactly where he found this hat. Come, we will start at once." Stow Wood was about a mile and a half from the inn, a rather dismal-looking place, where the grass grew long and dank, and where stoats and rats found a safe retreat from which to sally forth at night upon their marauding expeditions; and the grimmest, most lonely spot was around the deep pool, known locally as the Black Mere. A dark, motionless pool it was; in some parts covered with green weed, surrounded by coarse grass. Local superstition said that it was haunted, and though sensible people laughed at that, still the appearance of the spot was enough to give rise to such a legend.