time choosing your Christmas present a year ago.” 

 “Oh, of course, Geof dear, that wonderful old silver is valuable, but it is put away where I defy any burglar to find it. There is only my sable coat, and I am going to send for that as soon as I have time to have it cut over.” 

 “In my opinion,” said Mr. Vaughan, “the man is no longer in the neighbourhood. He would scarcely dare try a fifth attempt while the whole country was so aroused. You see Hillsborough has always been an attractive place to thieves. It is such an easy place to get away from,—three railroads within reach. A man would be pretty sure to be able to catch a passing freight train on one of them at almost any time, to say nothing of the increased difficulty of tracing him.” 

 “I don’t suppose he will ever be caught,” said Florence. “When he has got all he wants he will simply melt away and be forgotten. If he were caught—” 

 Here she was interrupted by the waiter who laid a telegram at her plate. It had come to her brother’s apartment, and been sent down. 

 “Who is telegraphing me,” she said, as she tore it open. “I hope Jack has not been breaking himself.” 

 Opening it, she read: 

 “Your house was entered about five o’clock this afternoon. Tea-set and sable coat missing.” 

 

II

 The next evening at seven o’clock, Holland stepped out of the train on the Hillsborough station. He wore a long fur-coat, for the morning had been bitterly cold in New York, and though the snow was now falling in small close flakes, the temperature had not risen appreciably, and a wild wind was blowing. 

 He looked about for the figure of McFarlane, for he had telegraphed the old man to meet him at the train with a trap, but there was no one to be seen. The station, which in summer on the arrival of the express was a busy scene with well dressed women and well-kept horses, was now utterly deserted except for one native who had charge of the mails. 

 “Hullo, Harris,” Geoffrey sung out. “Is McFarlane here for me?” 

 “Ain’t seen him. Guess it’s too stormy for the old man,” Harris replied dropping the mail bag into his wagon. 

 “Then you’ve got to drive 

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