Thus invited, Mr. Abercrombie read the letter of Mr. Craven, in which he referred to the possibility of an accident befalling Frank.

"What does this prove?" asked the reader, looking up.

"It proves that Sharpley pushed Frank over the cliff," said Mr. Tarbox, excitedly.

"I don't see that it does."

"Don't you see how he speaks of what is to be done if an accident happens?"

"Yes, but—"

"Doesn't that show that he expects it?"

"But we must establish a motive. What reason could Mr. Craven have for the murder of his step-son?"

"I'll tell you, for Frank told me all about it. Frank's got money, and so has his mother, but Frank's got the most. If he dies, his property goes to his mother. His loss will kill her, for she's delicate, so Frank says, and then this Craven will step into the whole of it. Don't you see?"

"There is something in that," said Mr. Abercrombie, thoughtfully. "Indeed, it would explain a part of Colonel Sharpley's conduct on the day of the accident."

"What did he do?" asked Mr. Tarbox, eagerly.

"I invited him to accompany my son and myself on an excursion. He refused, saying that he didn't feel like the exertion of an ascent. Then I invited Frank to accompany us, but he refused to let him go. He said he might take a short tramp, and wanted his company."

"The skunk!"

"Again, though urged afterward to take a guide, he refused to do so, but took a long walk—he and the boy being alone."

"I'd like to wring his neck!" ejaculated Jonathan.

"Besides, Frank could not have fallen unless he was very imprudent. Now, he never struck me as a rash or heedless boy."

"He wasn't."

"It doesn't seem at all like him voluntarily to place himself in such peril, yet Colonel Sharpley says he did."

"He lies, the murderous skunk!"

"It did not strike me at first, but I fear that you are right, and that the poor boy has been foully dealt with."

"Isn't there any hope?" asked Mr. Tarbox, blowing his nose violently in order to get a chance to wipe away the tears which the supposed sad fate of our hero called forth. "How high was the hill?"

"I fear there is no hope. We searched for the body, but did not find it."

"Then he may be living," said Mr. Tarbox, brightening up.

"There is hardly a chance of it, I should say," returned Mr. Abercrombie, gravely. "The descent was deep and precipitous."

"Where is the villain Sharpley?"

"He left the next day. He said he should hurry back to America to carry the sad news to the parents of the poor boy."

"And get his pay from Craven."

"I hope, Mr. Tarbox, that your suspicions are groundless. I should be very unwilling to believe in such wickedness."

"I hope so, too. If it was an accident I should think it was the will of God; but if that villain has murdered him I know it ain't. I wish I could overhaul Sharpley."

"What do you propose to do, Mr. Tarbox?"

"I'll tell you, Mr. Abercrombie. Fust and foremost, I'm going to that place where the accident happened, and I mean to find Frank dead or alive. If he's dead, I'll try to find out if he was murdered or not. If he's alive, I'll take care of him, and he'll tell me all about it."

"Mr. Tarbox," said the other, taking his hand, "I respect you for the strength of your attachment to the poor lad. I saw but little of him, but enough to be assured that he was a bold, manly boy, of a noble nature and a kind disposition. Pardon me for the offer I am about to make, but I hope you will allow me to pay the expenses of this investigation. You give your time; let me give my money, which is of less value."

"Thank you, Mr. Abercrombie," said Mr. Tarbox. "You're a gentleman; but I've got a little money, and I'd just as lief use it for Frank. I'll pay my own expenses."

"At any rate, I will give you my address, and if you get short of money I hope you will apply to me without fail."

"I will, squire," said Jonathan.

So they parted.

Mr. Tarbox set out immediately for the Hotel du Glacier.