Squire Turner arrived in Vernon in time for a late supper. After partaking of it, he took his hat and cane, and walked round to Mrs. Raymond’s cottage. Seeing him from the window, she hastened to open the door, and gazed with a look of anxious inquiry into his face.

“Did you see Harry?” she asked quickly, forgetting in her anxiety for her son even to bid the squire good-evening.

“No, Mrs. Raymond; but I will come in and tell you all about it.”

His face was grave, and his voice was sympathetic. The poor woman, her heart full of a terrible anxiety, haunted by undefined fears, led the way into the plain sitting-room, and then said, in a voice of entreaty, “Tell me quick, Squire Turner, has anything happened to my boy?”

“Let us hope not, Mrs. Raymond. I assure you I know of no harm that has come to him, but—I could not find him.”

“You forgot the number?” she inquired, eagerly.

“No, I remembered the number. Besides, it was on your letter and bundle. But I find that Mr. Fairchild has moved from his office on Nassau Street.”

“Has moved—where?”

“That I could not learn. It seems that the office was closed the day after your son’s arrival in New York, that is, on Tuesday. I made inquiry of the occupant of the next office, but that was all he could tell me, except that he believed Mr. Fairchild had gone away without paying his rent.”

Mrs. Raymond looked surprised.

“I don’t understand it,” she said. “Harry wrote that he was doing a large business. I thought the firm was one of the largest in New York.”

“Let us hope that the information I received was incorrect,” said the squire. “We will suppose that Mr. Fairchild found it necessary to move, on account of the demands of an extensive business. The office on Nassau Street was a small one, and I should hardly suppose it would be adequate to his wants.”

“But Harry said nothing about moving. Besides, if they did move, I should think he would have written me since.”

“There is something in what you say,” the squire answered. “In fact, I confess the affair has puzzled me. It is possible, however, as I suggested the other day, that he may have written, and the letter miscarried.”

“Do you think anything has happened to Harry, Squire Turner?” asked Mrs. Raymond.

“I hope not.”

“But you think it possible?”

“I don’t know what could have happened.”

“But it seems suspicious, Mr. Fairchild’s moving away so quickly.”

“Yes, that does look suspicions,” admitted the squire. “In fact, I thought it best to lay the matter before the police authorities, so that if there is anything wrong they may ferret it out.”

“Oh, I wish that Harry had never gone to the city!” murmured Mrs. Raymond, sorrowfully. “I was not in favor of it from the first. I tried to have him stay at home, but he was possessed to go to the city.”

“It is natural, Mrs. Raymond, that a spirited boy should get tired of a small village like Vernon, and want to enter a larger field. It may turn out all right. Don’t decide too hastily that anything has happened to him.”

“I shall not sleep any to-night. Squire Turner, I think I must go to the city to-morrow.”

“I would not advise you to do so, Mrs. Raymond. You could do no good there. I have placed the matter in the hands of the police authorities, and whatever there is to be found out they will ascertain and communicate to me.”

“But it seems so hard to wait in suspense.”

“That is true. I will tell you what I will do. I know your anxiety, and if nothing should be heard before next Tuesday, I will go to the city again, and make what additional inquiries I can.”

“Thank you, Squire Turner. You are truly kind. How can I ever repay you for your great kindness?”

“Don’t mention it, Mrs. Raymond. I know you have no one to look out for you now, and it is a pleasure to me to feel that I am able to be of service.”

The squire took his leave, pressing Mrs. Raymond’s hand gently, to indicate the sympathy which he felt for her.

“I believe I played my part pretty well,” he said to himself, as he went out. “She will never suspect that I had anything to do with the abduction of her son. When the affair has blown over a little, I will go to Milwaukie, and see Robinson about the land warrant, and its probable value. If the affair can be compromised, so as to bring Mrs. Raymond ten thousand dollars, I will offer myself. That will be a pretty addition to my property. Besides, when her son gets home, and finds that I am his mother’s husband, his mouth will be shut about that confounded fire. Maybe, he will fall overboard, and never come back. If that happens, I shan’t shed many tears. He is an obstinate, impracticable boy, and I shall be rid of him.”

Thus the squire soliloquized.

Meanwhile, three days passed. It was Monday evening. Again he called to see the widow, now, as it appeared, doubly bereft of husband and son.

“Have you had a letter, Mrs. Raymond?” he inquired.

“No,” she answered, sorrowfully. “I hoped you might have heard something.”

The squire shook his head.

“I wish I had any such news to give you,” he said; “but I have heard nothing whatever.”

“I am sure Harry is dead,” said the poor mother, bursting into tears.

“No, no, I am sure he is not,” said the squire, soothingly. “There are twenty ways of accounting for his silence, before adopting such an extreme view as this.”

“I have hardly closed my eyes in sleep for the last three nights,” said Mrs. Raymond; and her pale face and swollen eyes testified to the literal correctness of what she said.

“Don’t worry too much,” said the squire. “We shall hear of Harry yet. To-morrow I will go to the city again. If it will be any satisfaction to you, I will invite you to accompany me.”

“I will go,” said the poor mother. “It will be better than staying at home. I shall feel that I am doing something to find my lost Harry. You are very kind to invite me.”

“Don’t mention it,” said the squire. “I will call round in the morning, and carry you to the depot in my carriage.”

“I will be ready.”

The next day, therefore, Squire Turner, accompanied by Mrs. Raymond, went to New York. They went round to the office in Nassau Street, but, as may be expected, learned nothing in addition to the facts previously gathered. Next, they went to the office of the Superintendent of Police, but learned nothing definite beyond this, that Lemuel Fairchild, instead of being a responsible business-man, was a needy adventurer. He had disappeared from the city, and thus far the police had been unable to trace him. What intention he could have had in pretending to be a commission merchant, and, above all, what could have induced him to send for Harry, was a mystery which it seemed difficult to explain. The superintendent promised to pursue his inquiries, and to endeavor to obtain information concerning Harry and his employer,—both of whom had strangely disappeared. With this they were obliged to be content, unsatisfactory as it was.

With a heavy heart Mrs. Raymond made her homeward journey. Thus far she had thought only of the personal grief she had suffered in the loss of Harry. But another consideration very soon forced itself upon her mind. In losing Harry, she had lost her main support. How was she to sustain herself and little Katy? Already the small amount of ready money which her husband had left behind him was exhausted, and as yet she knew of no way of earning more. It was Squire Turner who first opened the subject to her.

“I have no doubt,” he said, “that Harry will return after a while, and explain his absence in a satisfactory manner. But, meanwhile, you will, of course, suffer inconvenience from the loss of his wages. Have you thought of any plan?”

“No,” she answered, wearily. “I have no pleasure in living, now that my husband and son are gone.”

“You must live for the sake of little Katy, and for the sake of Harry, who will return some day.”

“Yes, Katy will need me; Harry I shall never see again.”

“You think so now; but I am sure he will return. I have taken the liberty to form a plan for you, supposing that you were too much occupied by your grief to form any for yourself.”

“You are very kind, Squire Turner.”

“I will advance you a hundred dollars, which can be added to the mortgage I hold on your place. With a part of it you can buy a sewing-machine, and take in work. I am needing a dozen shirts made, if you will undertake them.”

Mrs. Raymond felt that this was a kind and wise plan, and so expressed herself. Accordingly, the sewing-machine was bought, and it was understood that Mrs. Raymond was ready to take in sewing. She obtained considerable employment, but not enough to pay all her expenses. Every month she found herself going behindhand, and getting more and more into debt to Squire Turner.

But we must leave her now, and follow the fortunes of our young hero.