“The underground passage where my ancestors used to hide from the Indians--yes, yes. Can we drop him through?” “Sure, if I can get the tools in here to rip up some flooring and put it back. Will you stay here, locked in, while I push them into the window, for I daren’t bring them into the hall.” “Yes, go, quickly,” and he let him out and closed and locked the door again, waiting, with a chill of horror at his heart, of that white and silent thing lying at his feet. Presently there was a noise outside the window, and he went and took in the tools that Joslyn reached up to him. Then he admitted him, and they went at their grewsome work of hiding the mute witness of that terrible crime. In the midst of their task came a light rap on the door. “Uncle Hermann, I want you!” Jessie said, excitedly. “I am engaged--excuse me,” he bawled, hoarsely, through the keyhole. “All right,” she answered, after a moment’s hesitation; “I only wanted to tell you about Leola. Doctor Barnes says she is not dead, after all, and he is bringing her around; do you hear?” “Yes, I hear, Jessie. Now go away, like a good girl; I cannot be disturbed,” he assured her, turning back to Joslyn in time to see him lift Chester Olyphant’s body and let it fall through the opening in the floor. CHAPTER XII. A WAYSIDE FLOWER. “Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell.” Leola sat up in bed among the white covers, scarcely whiter than her face, and smiled wanly into Miss Tuttle’s anxious eyes. “I am sorry that I am better. I wish I had died,” she said, bitterly. For twenty-four hours she had been threatened with brain fever, but now the crisis had passed, and she was improving. Doctor Barnes, who had been very uneasy all this time, had said just now she would soon be well--that her youth and fine constitution had tided her safely over the danger point. These two days Miss Tuttle had nursed her most carefully, admitting, by the doctor’s orders, no one but himself. In vain Jessie Stirling pleaded to come in and help nurse the patient; Miss Tuttle sent her ruthlessly away. “Doctor Barnes exacts perfect quiet, and trusts her only to me,” she said, proudly. Jessie retired, baffled and angry, to cogitate over the mystery of Chester Olyphant’s disappearance. For since he had gone to bring the doctor to Leola, no one had seen his face. Jessie had by no means expected him to retreat from the field of battle. Instead, she had looked for him to march off with victory on his banners, the battle gained, the prize won. She knew that if Chester could get an opportunity to tell her uncle that he was rich and would pay off the mortgage on Wheatlands, he could easily gain his ends and marry Leola. It was in dread of this that she had incited him to anger against Chester, hoping to prevent their coming to an understanding.