On that point there could be no doubt; so, Mr.Bonner was reluctantly compelled to admit to himself that he had no plausible excuse for staying on.

The great detective from New York had come to town, gathered all of the facts under cover of strictest secrecy, run down every possible shadow of a clew in Boggs City, and had returned to the metropolis, there to begin the search twenty-one years back.
"Four weeks," Bonner was saying to her reflectively, as they came homeward from their last visit to the abandoned mill on Turnip Creek.

It was a bright, warm February morning, suggestive of spring and fraught with the fragrance of something far sweeter.

"Four weeks of idleness and joy to me--almost a lifetime in the waste of years.

Does it seem long to you, Miss Gray--oh, I remember, I am to call you Rosalie." "It seems that I have known you always instead of for four weeks," she said gently.