- covered the loss of the papers, Henry Matthewson
slipped through the grounds of the Hunter home, coming from the direction of the river, and entered by a side door. He went directly to the library, where his brother and the two Hunters had been in uneasy conference for some hours. As he entered, the three men started to their feet, first in surprise at his presence, and then in greater surprise at his appearance. His face was white and set, like the face of a man who has passed through some terrible struggle and has conquered or been conquered. One, looking at the inscrutable face, could not have decided which.
"You!" exclaimed Charles Matthewson. "I have been trying to reach you all night."
"How could you reach here at this hour?" said Frank Hunter. "There's no train."
Charles Hunter said nothing, but his quick understanding of men, and, perhaps, a quality in him that would have dared all that man could dare in a desperate case, told him more than either of his companions saw. For a moment he hesitated and then, seeing no denial in the face of the newcomer, said:
