“What would I want wid Dr. Bilks?” replied he, a gleam of caution evidently streaming through his mind. “I only want to think what the trudth is.” “It is that for which you can get the most money,” said Dick, facetiously, as he walked out of the house. [Illustration: THE OFFER IN WRITING.--Page 224.] Eugene was intensely amused as he got into the buggy. Five thousand dollars was a large sum of money; but he seemed to be delighted with the idea of parting with it, if he had such an idea. “I’m rather sorry you didn’t make it ten thousand,” chuckled Dick, as he joined Hungerford. “Well, I will go in and change the paper.” “Never mind; it will do just as well as it is. I don’t think Dr. Bilks can afford to pay out more than five thousand.” “Has he much money?” “He seems to be pretty well supplied with the article. He has several thousand dollars in the Poppleton Bank.” “Good! We can find out at the bank whether he pays Sandy his price. I am rather sorry I did not make it ten thousand. If Dr. Bilks wants to dance, he ought to pay the fiddler,” laughed Eugene. “It may turn out that you will be called upon to pay it yourself.” “There is no possibility of such a contingency. His reputation is now in the hands of Sandy McGuire, and the rascal will have no more mercy upon him than upon the eel he skins for his dinner.” “I hope he will skin him close. If I had reached the Settlement half an hour before the doctor, I should have headed him off.” “Then you fully believe that he bargained with McGuire and his wife to tell this story?” “I have no doubt of it. He was the person with Buckstone that night; and I shall not leave a stone unturned till I prove it.” “But, Dick, you have no case. You are lame in the first and most essential point; you cannot prove his motive in being there.” “If we prove the fact, the motive may be apparent.” “There is no earthly reason why Dr. Bilks should have had anything to do with Buckstone.” “There is a reason, though you may not see it.” “Do you see it?” “I have a theory.” “What is it, Dick?” “I say, as I have said before, that I know nothing about it, any more than yourself. The anxiety of Dr. Bilks to make it appear that I was the stranger assured me he had a motive for doing so. The doctor and myself have been quite intimate for the last six months. Of course, my very occupation, as your agent, led us to talk a great deal about you, and I think by this time he knows you very well. Still, I never told him anything about your affair with Mary until I was in a manner forced to do so, after Ross brought her home from New York. Of course, I spoke to him in confidence, though what I told him was little more than was known by everybody in town. I did tell him that you were still deeply interested in Mary’s welfare, and that I intended to do something to heal her wounds. I made him my confidant in this matter, because, as her physician, he could help me in the execution of my plan.”