"True," murmured the mother. "How true that is, Floyd! There is never a day but I feel the touch of their fingers, remember their sweet baby ways. And always, when I look at you, I think of them. They were so like their father." Lon Cronk and Lem Crabbe had arranged between them that the scowman should return to Ithaca for some days, and so the big thief was alone near the Hudson, in a shanty that had been given over to him by a canal friend to use when he wished. When Lon decided to rob Horace Shellington, he had known that there would have to be some place to take the things thus obtained, and had secured the hut for the purpose. It was at this address that Everett came to him, upon his return from New York. Lon admitted the lawyer, who found the hut reeking with the rank smoke from a short pipe that Cronk held in his hand. "Have ye got the kids?" the squatter questioned. Everett catechized the heavy face with a smile. "Did you think for a moment it was possible to obtain them so quickly?" "I hain't had no way of knowin'," grunted Lon, "and I'm in a hurry." He seemed changed, and looked as if he had not slept. Everett wondered if his affection for the children had been so great that his loss of them had altered him thus. The lawyer did not know how Lon was tortured when he caressed the image of the dead woman, nor could he know the man's agony when her spirit left him suddenly. "You'll have to curb your haste," said Brimbecomb, with a curl of his lip. "It takes time to set justice in motion." "Have ye done anything?" "Not yet. I was forced to go to New York." "Hadn't ye better git a hustle on yerself?" snarled Lon. "Yes, I intend to begin tomorrow; that is, to take the first steps in the matter. But I wanted to talk with you first. Are you alone?" "Yep; there ain't nobody here. Fire ahead, and say what ye're wantin' to." Everett bent over and looked keenly into Lon's face; then slowly he threw a question at the fellow: "Are you fond of those two children, or have you other motives for taking them from Shellington?" Cronk made no reply, but settled back in the rickety chair and eyed Everett from head to foot. "Be that any of yer business?" he said at length. The lawyer took the repulse calmly. He had not come to fight with Lon. "It's my business as far as this is concerned. If you care for them, and intend to shield them after you have them--well, say from all harm--and do your best for them, then I don't want your case. I'm willing to return your money." For a moment the elder man looked disconcerted; then he jumped to his feet with an oath. "Put her there, Mister!" said he, with an evil smile. He thrust forth a great hand, and for an instant Everett placed his fingers within it. "I thought I had not guessed wrongly," the lawyer quickly averred. "If that is how you feel, I can do better work for you." "I see that, Mister," muttered Lon. "Are those children really yours?" Everett took out a cigar and lighted it.