6 Dr. Poole It was a direct attack, and for a minute I doubted if I had not made a mistake in making it so suddenly and without gloves. His face purpled, the veins on his forehead started out, his great form shook with an ire that in such domineering natures as his can only find relief in a blow. But the right hand did not rise nor did the heavy fist fall. With admirable self-restraint he faced me for a moment without attempting either protest or denial. Then his blazing eyes cooled down, and with a sudden gesture which at once relaxed his extreme tension of nerve and muscle he pointed toward the end of the hall and remarked with studied politeness, "'My office is below, as you know. Will you oblige me by following me there?' I feared him, for I saw that studiously as he sought to hide his impressions he too regarded the moment as one of critical significance. But I assumed an air of perfect confidence, merely observing as I left the neighbourhood of the front door and the proximity of Jupp. I have friends waiting outside for me, so you must not keep me too long.' He was bending to take up the lamp from a small table near the basement stairs as I threw out these words in apparent carelessness, and the flash which shot from under his shaggy brows was thus necessarily heightened by the glare in which he stood. But with all allowances made I marked him down in my own mind as dangerous, and was correspondingly surprised when he turned on the top step of the narrow staircase I remembered so vividly from my experience I have before named and in the mildest of accents remarked, "'These stairs are a trifle treacherous. Be careful to grasp the handrail as you come down.' Was the game deeper than I thought? In all my remembrance of him I had never before seen him look benevolent, and it alarmed me, coming as it did after the accusation I had made. I felt tempted to make a stand and demand that the interview be held then and there. For I knew his subterranean office very well, and how difficult it would be to raise a cry there which could be heard by any one outside. Still, with a muttered, Thank you, I proceeded to follow him down, only stopping once in the descent, to listen for some sound by which I might determine in which room of the many I knew to be on this floor, the little one lay, on whose behalf I was incurring a possible bullet from the pistol I once saw lurking amongst bottles and corks in one of the innumerable drawers of the doctor's table. But all was still around and overhead, too still for my peace of mind, in which dreadful visions began to rise, of a drugged or dying child, panting out its innocent breath in darkness and solitude. Yet, no. With those thousands to be had for the asking, any man would be a fool to injure or even seriously to frighten a child upon whose good condition they depended, much less a miser whose whole heart was fixed on money. The clock struck as I put my foot on the landing, so much can happen in twenty minutes, when events crowd and the passions of men reach their boiling point. I expected to see the old man try that door, even to double bolt it as in the years gone by. But he merely threw a look that way and proceeded on down the three or four steps, which led into the species of basement where he had chosen to fix his office. In another moment that dim and dismal room broke upon my view, under the vague light of the small and poorly trimmed lamp he carried. I saw again its musty walls, covered with books, where there were shelves laden with bottles and a loose array of miscellaneous objects I had often handled, but out of which I could never make any meaning. I recognized it all, and detected but few changes. But these were startling ones. The old lounge, standing under the two-barred windows, which I had often likened in my own mind to those of a jail, had been recovered. And lying on the table, which I had always regarded with a mixture of awe and apprehension, I perceived something which I had never seen there before. A Bible, with its edges torn and its leaves rumpled, as if often and eagerly handled. I was so struck by this last discovery that I stopped, staring in the doorway, looking from the scarred volume to the worn but vigorous figure drawn up in the middle of the room, with the lamp still in his hand, and his small but brilliant eyes fixed upon mine, with a certain ironical glitter in them, which gave me my first distrust of the part I had come there to play.  In what respect are you a messenger from Mrs. Ocampa, and what makes you think I have her child in this house? I found it easier to answer the last question first. I know the child is here, I replied, because my partner saw you bring her in. I have gone into the detective business since leaving you. Ah, there was an astonished edge to his smile, and I felt that I should have to make the most of that old discovery of mine if I were to hold my own with this man. And may I ask, he coldly continued, how you have succeeded in connecting me with this young child's disappearance. As straight as a string, I retorted, you threatened the child to its face in the hearing of its nurse some weeks ago, on a certain bridge, where you stopped them. Even set the day when the little Gwendolyn should pass from luxury to poverty. Here I cast an involuntary glance about the room where the only sign of comfort was the newly upholstered lounge. The day was the sixteenth, and we all know what happened on that date. If this is not plain enough, I had seen his lip curl, allow me to add by way of explanation that you have seen fit to threaten Mrs. O'Cumper herself with this date, for I know well the hand which wrote August sixteenth on the bungalow floor, and in various other places about Homewood where her eye was likely to fall. And I let my own fall on a sort of manuscript lying open not far from the Bible, which still looked so out of place to me on this pagan-hearted old miser's table. Such chirography as yours is not to be mistaken, I completed, with a short gesture toward the disordered sheets he had left spread out to every eye. I see, a detective without doubt. Did you play the detective here? The last question leaped like a shot from his lips. You have not denied the threats to which I have just called your attention, was my cautious reply. What need of that, he retorted, are you not a detective? There was sarcasm as well as taunt in the way he uttered the last word. I was conscious of being at a loss, but put a bold front on the matter, and proceeded as if conscious of no secret misgiving. Can you deny as well that you have been gone two days from this place? That during this time a doctor's buggy, drawn by a horse I should know by description, having harnessed him three times a day for two years, was seen by more than one observer in the wake of a mysterious wagon from the interior of which a child's cry could be heard?  With a sudden down-bringing of his old but powerful hand on top of the table before him, he seemed about to utter an oath or some angry invective. But again he controlled himself, and, eyeing me without any show of shame or even of desire to contradict any of my assertions, he quietly declared, You are after that reward I observe. Well, you won't get it. Like many others of your class you can follow a trail, but the insight to start right and to end in triumphant success is given only to genius. And you are not a genius. With a blush I could not control, I advanced upon him crying, You have forestalled me. You have telegraphed your telephone to Mr. Atwater. I have not left my house since I came in here three hours ago. Then I began, but he hushed me with a look. It is not a matter of money, he declared almost with dignity. Those who think to reap dollars from the distress which has come upon the Ocampa family will eat ashes for their pains. Money will be spent, but none of it earned, unless you or such as you are hired at so much an hour to follow trails. Greatly astounded not only by the attitude he took, but by the calm and almost indifferent way in which he mentioned what I had every reason to believe to be the one burning object of his existence, I surveyed him with undisguised astonishment till another thought, growing out of the silence of the many-roomed house above us, gripped me with secret dread, and I exclaimed aloud and without any attempt at subterfuge. She is dead, then. The child is dead? I do not know, was his reply. The four words were uttered with undeniable gloom.  No, I wish I did. I would have given half of my small savings to know where that innocent baby is tonight. Sit down, he vehemently commanded. You do not understand me, I see. You confound the old Doctor Poole with the new one. I confound nothing, I violently retorted in his strong revulsion, against what I now come to look upon as the attempt of a subtle actor to turn aside my suspicions and brave out a dangerous situation by ridiculous subterfuge. I understand the miser whom I have beheld gloating over his hoard in the room above, and I understand the Doctor who for money could lend himself to a fraud, the secret results of which are agitating the whole country at this moment. So the word came with difficulty. So you did play the detective, even as a boy. Pity I had not recognized your talents at the time. But no, he contradicted himself with great rapidity. I was not a redeemed soul, then. I might have done you harm. I might have had more, if not worse, sins to atone for than what I have now. And with scant appearance, of having noted the doubtful manner in which I received this astonishing outburst, he proceeded to cry aloud and with commanding gesture, Quit this! You have undertaken more than you can handle. You, a messenger from Mrs. Ocampa? Never. You are but the messenger of your own cupidity, and cupidity leads to the straightest of roads directly down to hell. Just you proved six long years ago. Lead me to the child I believed to be in this house, or I will proclaim aloud the pact you entered into then, a pact to which I was an involuntary witness whose word, however, will not go for less on that account. Behind the curtain still hanging over that old closet I stood while. His hand had seized my arm with a grip few could have proceeded under. Do you mean? The rest was a whisper in my ear. I nodded and felt that he was mine now. But the laugh which the next minute broke from his lips dashed my assurance. Oh, the ways of the world, he cried, then in a different tone and not without reverence. Oh, the ways of God! I made no reply. For every reason I felt that the next words must come from him. It was an unexpected one. That was Dr. Poole unregenerate and more heedful of the things of this world than of those of the world to come. You have to deal with quite a different man now. It is of that very sin I am now repenting in sackcloth and ashes. I live but to expiate it. Some things have been done toward accomplishing this but not enough. I have been played upon, used. This I will avenge. New sin is a poor apology for an old one. I scarcely heeded him. I was again straining my ears to catch a smothered sob or a frightened moan. What are you listening for? He asked. For the sound of little Gwendolyn's voice, it is worth fifty thousand dollars, you remember. Why shouldn't I listen for it? Besides, I have a real and uncontrollable sympathy for the child. I am determined to restore her to her home. Your blasphemous babble of a changed heart does not affect me. You are after the larger hall than the some offered by Mr. Ocampa. You want some of Mrs. Ocampa's fortune. I have suspected it from the first. I want?  Unquickly, convincingly, you are strangely deceived. Little Miss Ocampa is not here. What is that I hear, then, was the quick retort with which I hailed the sigh, unmistakably from infantile lips, which now rose from some place very much nearer us than the hollow regions overhead toward which my ears had been so long turned. That, he flashed with uncontrollable passion, and if I am not mistaken clenched his hands so violently as to bury his nails in his flesh, would you like to see what this is? Come! And taking the lamp he moved much to my surprise, as well as to my intense interest, toward the door of the small cupboard where I myself had slept when in his service. That he still meditated some deviltry which would call for my full presence of mind to combat successfully, I did not in the least doubt. Yet the agitation under which I crossed the floor was more the result of an immediate anticipation of seeing, and in this place of all others in the world, the child about whom my thoughts had clung so persistently for forty-two hours than of any result to myself in the way of injury or misfortune. Though the room was small and my passage across it necessarily short, I had time to remember Mrs. Ocampa's pitiful countenance, as I saw it gazing in agony of expectation from her window overlooking the river, and to catch again the sounds less true and yet strangely thrilling of Mrs. Carew's voice as she said, a tragedy at my doors and I occupied with my own affairs. Or was this all, a recollection of Miss Graham's sorrow came up before my eyes also, and truest of all, most penetrating to me of all the loves which seemed to encompass this rare and winsome infant, the infinite tenderness with which I once saw Mr. Ocampa lift her to his breast during one of my interviews with him at Homewood. All this before the door had swung open. Afterward I saw nothing and thought of nothing but the small figure lying in the spot where I had once pillied my own head, and with no more luxuries or even comforts about her than had been my lot under this broad but by no means hospitable roof. A bare wall, a narrow cot, a table with a bottle and glass on it, and the child in the bed, that was all. But God knows it was enough for me at that breathless moment and advancing eagerly I was about to stoop over the little head sunk deep in its pillow when the old man stepped between and with a short laugh remarked, There's no hurry. I have something to say first, an explanation of the anger you have seen me display, an anger which is unseemly in a man professing to have conquered the sins and passions of lost humanity. I did follow this child. You were right in saying that it was my horse and buggy which were seen in the wake of the wagon which came from the region of Homewood and lost itself in the crossroads running between the North River and the sound. For two days and a night I followed it, through more difficulties than I could relate in an hour, stopping in lonely woods or at wretched taverns, watching, waiting for the transfer of the child whose destination I was bound to know even if it cost me a week of miserable travel without comfortable food or decent lodging. I could hear the child cry out from time to time, an assurance that I was not following a will of the wisp, but not till today, not till very late today, did any words pass between me and the man and woman who drove that wagon. At Fordham, just as I suspected them of making final efforts to escape me, they came to a halt and I saw the man get out. I immediately got out too, as we faced each other I demanded what the matter was. He appeared reckless. Are you a doctor, he asked?  I've got a job for you, a child in our wagon is ill. With a start I attempted to look over the old man's shoulder toward the bed, but the deep if irregular breathing of the child reassured me and I turned to hear the doctor out. This gave me my chance, let me see her, I cried. The man's eye lowered, I did not like his face at all. If it's anything serious, he growled, I shall cut. It isn't my flesh and blood, nor yet my old woman's here. You'll have to find some place for the brat beside my wagon if it's anything that won't get cured without nothing, so come along and have a look.  Where were you going to take her, I asked. I didn't ask who she was, why should I? I don't know as I'm obliged to tell, was the surly reply. Where we are going ourselves, he reluctantly added. But not to us. I got no time for us and brats, nor my wife neither. We have a journey to make. Sarah, this to his wife, for by this time we were beside the wagon, lift up the flap and hold the youngster's hand out. Here's a doctor who'll tell us if it's fever or not. A puny hand and wrist were thus thrust out. I felt the pulse and held out my arms. Give me the child, I commanded.  A grunt from the woman within, an oath from the man, and a bundle was presently put in my arms, from which a little moan escaped, as I strode with it toward my buggy. I do not ask your name, I called back to the man, who reluctantly followed me. Mine is Dr. Poole, and I live in Yonkers.  But I had the child safe and sound in my arms, and my fears of its fate were relieved. It was not well, but I anticipated nothing serious. When it moaned I pressed it a little closer to my breast, and that was all. In three-quarters of an hour we were in Yonkers. In fifteen minutes I had it on this bed, and had begun to unroll the shawl in which it was closely wrapped. Did you ever see the child about whom there has been all this coil? Yes, about three years ago. Three years? I have seen her within a fortnight, yet I could carry that young one in my arms for a whole hour without the least suspicion that I was making a fool of myself. Slowly slipping aside he allowed me to approach the bed and to take my first look at the sleeping child's face. It was a sweet one, but I did not need the hint he had given me to find the features strange, and lacking every characteristic of those of Gwendolyn Ocampa. Yet as the cutting off of the hair will often change the whole aspect of the face, and this child's hair was short, I was stooping in great excitement to notice more particularly the contour of cheek and chin which had given individuality to the little heiress when the doctor touched me on the arm and drew my attention to a pair of little trousers and a shirt which were hanging on the door behind me. Those are the clothes I came upon under the great shawl. The child I have been following and whom I have brought into my house under the impression it was Gwendolyn Ocampa is not even a girl. CHAPTER VII I could well understand the wrath to which this man had given way by the feeling which now took hold of my own breast. A boy, I exclaimed. A boy. Still incredulous I leaned over the child and lifted into the full light of the lamp one of the little hands I saw lying outside of the coverlet. There was no mistaking it for a girl's hand, let alone a little lady's. So we are both fools, I have esyphorated in my unbounded indignation, careful however to lay the small hand gently back on the panting breast. And turning away both from the doctor and his patient I strolled back into the office. The bubble whose gray colors I had followed with such avidity had burst in my face with the vengeance. But once from under the influence of the doctor's sarcastic eye my better nature reasserted itself, wielding about I threw this question back. If this is a boy and a stranger, where is Gwendolyn Ocampa? A moan from the bed and a hurried movement on the part of the doctor, who took this opportunity to give the child another dose of medicine, were my sole response. Waiting till the doctor had finished his task and drawn back from the bedside I repeated the question, and with increased emphasis, where, then, is Gwendolyn Ocampa? Well the doctor did not answer, though he turned my way and even stepped forward. His long visage, cadaverous from fatigue and the shock of his disappointment, growing more and more somber as he advanced. When he came to a stand by the table I asked again, where is the child idolized by Mr. Ocampa and moaned to such a degree by his almost maddened wife that they say she will die if the girl is not found. The threat in my tones brought a response at last, a response which astonished me. Have I not said that I do not know? Do you not believe me? Do you think me as blind today to truth and honor as I was six years ago? Have you no idea of repentance and regeneration from sin?  Find me that child. You shall have the money. Hundreds, thousands, if you can bring me proofs of her being yet alive. If the Hudson has swallowed her, here his figure rose, dilated and took on a majesty which impressed itself upon me through all my doubts. I will have vengeance on whoever has thus dared the laws of God and man as I would on the foulest murderer in the foulest slums of that city which breeds wickedness in high places as in low. I lock hands no longer with Belial, find me the child, or make me at least to know the truth. There was no doubting the passion which drove these words hot from his lips. I recognized at last the fanatic whom Miss Graham had graphically described in relating her extraordinary adventure on the bridge, and met him with this one question which was certainly a vital one. You dropped a shoe from the little one's closet into the water under the dock. Did you? No, his sharp reply came. But, I insisted, you have had something to do with this child's disappearance. He did not answer. A sullen look was displacing the fire of resolve in the eyes I saw sinking slowly before mine. I will not acknowledge it, he muttered, adding, however, in what was little short of a growl. Not yet, not till it becomes my duty to avenge innocent blood. You foretold the date. Drop it. You were in league with the abductor, I persisted. I declared to your face in spite of all the vaunted scruples with which you seek to blind me to your guilt, that you were in league with the abductor, knowing what money Mrs. Ocampo would pay. He was too smart for you, and perhaps too unscrupulous. You would stop short of murder, now that you have got religion. But his conscience is not so nice, and so you fear. You do not know what I fear, and I am not going to tell you. It is enough that I am conscious of my own uprightness, and that I say, find the child. You have incentive enough. It was true, and it was growing stronger every minute. Confine yourself to such clues as are apparent to every eye. He now admonished me, with an eagerness that seemed real. If they are pointed by some special knowledge you believe yourself to have gained, that is all the better, perhaps. I do not propose to say. I saw that he had uttered his ultimatum. Very good, I said. I have nevertheless one more question to ask, which relates to those very clues. You cannot refuse to answer it if you are really desirous of aiding me in my efforts. Where did you first come upon the wagon which you followed so many hours, in the belief that it held Gwendolyn Ocampo? He mused a moment with downcast head, his nervous frame trembling with the force with which he threw his whole weight on the hand he held out spread on the table before him. Then he calmly replied, I will tell you that, at the gate of Mrs. Caru's grounds, you know them, they adjoined the Ocampos on the left. My surprise made me lower my head, but not so quickly that I did not catch the oblique glint of his eye as he mentioned the name which I was so little prepared to hear in this connection. I was in my buggy on the high road, he continued. There was a constant passing by of all kinds of vehicles on their way to and from the Ocampa Entertainment, but none of that attracted my attention till I caught sight of the covered wagon I have endeavored to describe being driven out of the adjoining grounds. Then I pricked up my ears for a child was crying inside in the smothered way that tells of a hand laid heavily over a mouth. I thought I knew what child this was, but you have been witnessed to my disappointment after forty-eight hours of travel behind that wretched wagon. It came out of Mrs. Caru's grounds, I repeated, ignoring everything but the one important fact. And during the time you say, when Mrs. Ocampa's guests were assembling, did you see any other vehicle leave by the same gate at or about that time? Yes, a carriage. It appeared to have no one in it. Indeed I know that it was empty, for I peered into it as it rolled by me down the street. Of course I do not know what might have been under the seeds. Nothing was my sharp retort. That was the carriage in which Mrs. Caru had come up from the train. Did it pass out before the wagon? Yes, by some minutes. There is nothing, then, to be gained by that. There does not seem to be. Was his accent and uttering this simple phrase peculiar? I looked up to make sure. But his face, which had been eloquent with one feeling or another during every minute of this long interview till the present instant, looked strangely impassive, and I did not know how to press the question hovering on my lips. You have given me a heavy task, I finally remarked, and you offer very little assistance in the way of conjecture. Yet you must have formed some. He toyed with his beard, combing it with his nervous muscular fingers, and as I watched how he lingered over the tips, caressing them before he dropped them, I felt that he was toying with my perplexities in much the same fashion and with equal satisfaction. Angry and all out of patience with him I blurted out, I will do without your aid. I will solve this mystery and earn your money, if not that of Mr. Ocampa, with no assistance save afforded by my own wits. I expect you will, he retorted, and for the first time since I burst in upon him, like one dropping from the clouds, through an unapproachable doorway on the upper floor, he lost that look of extreme tension which had nerved his aged figure into something of the aspect of youth. With it vanished his impressiveness. It was simply a tired old man I now followed upstairs to the side door. As I paused to give him a final nod and an assurance of intended good faith toward him, he made a kindly enough gesture in the direction of my old room below and said, Don't worry about the little fellow down there, he'll come on all right. I shan't visit on him the extravagance of my own folly. I am a Christian now. And with this encouraging remark he closed the door and I found myself alone in the dark alley. My first sense of relief came from the coolness of the night air on my flushed forehead and cheeks. After the stifling atmosphere of the underground room, reeking with the fumes of the lamp and the heat of the struggle which his dogged confidence in himself had made so unequal, it was pleasurable just to sense the quiet and the cool of the night and feel myself released from the bondage of a presence from which I frequently recoiled, but had never thoroughly felt the force of till to-night. My next from the touch and voice of my partner, who at that moment rose from before the basement windows where he had evidently been lying out for a long time outstretched. What if you've been doing down there, was his very natural complaint. I tried to listen, I tried to see, but beyond a few scattered words when your voices rose to an excited pitch, I have learned nothing but that you were in no danger saved from the overthrow of your scheme. That has failed, has it not? Would you have interrupted me long ago if you had found the child? Yes, I acknowledged, drawing him down the alley. I have failed for to-night, but I start afresh to-morrow. Though how I can rest idle for nine hours, not knowing under what roof, if under any, that doomed innocent may be lying, I do not know. You must rest, you are staggered with fatigue now. Not a bit of it, only with uncertainty. I don't see my way. Let us go down-street and see if any news has come over the wires since I left Homewood. But first, what a spooky old house that is! And what did the old gentleman have to say if you're tumbling in on him from space, without a by-your-leave or even an excuse me? Tell me about it. I told him enough to allay his curiosity. That was all I thought necessary, and he seemed satisfied. Up is a good fellow, quite willing to confine himself to his particular end of the business, which does not include the thinking end. Why should it? There was no news, this we soon learned. Only some hints of a contemplated move on the part of the police, in a district where some low characters had been seen dragging along a resisting child of an unexpectedly refined appearance. As no one could describe the child, and I had refused from the first to look upon the case as one of ordinary abduction, I laid little stress on the report, destined though it was to appear under startling headlines on the morrow, and startled my more credulous partner quite out of his usual equanimity by ordering him on our arrival at the station to buy me a ticket for Homewood as I was going to go back. To Homewood so late? Exactly. It will not be late there, or if it is, anxious hearts make light sleepers. His shoulders rose a trifle, but he bought a ticket. CHAPTER VIII. Never have I felt a weirder sensation than when I stepped from the cars onto the solitary platform, from which a few hours before I had seen the little nursery governess depart for New York. The train, soon disappeared in the darkness of the long perspective, was all that gave life and light to the scene, and when it was gone nothing remained to relieve the gloom or to break the universal stillness, save the quiet lap of the water, and the moaning of the wind through the trees which climbed the heights to Homewood. I had determined to enter if possible by way of the private path, though I expected to find it guarded against such intrusion. In approaching it I was given a full view of the river, and thus was in a position to note that the dock and the adjoining banks were no longer bright with lanterns, in the hands of eager men, bending with fixed eyes over the flowing waters. The search which had kept so many busy at this spot for well on to two days had been abandoned, and the darkness seemed doubly dark, and the silence doubly oppressive in contrast. Yet hope spoke in the abandonment, and with renewed spirit and a more than lively courage I turned toward the little gate through which I had passed twice before that day. As I expected a silent figure rose up from the shadows to prevent me, but it fell back at the mention of my name and business, thus proving the man to be in the confidence of Mrs. Ocampa, or at least in that of Miss Porter. I am come for a social chat with the coachman, I explained. Lights burn late in such extensive stables. Don't worry about me. The people at the house are in sympathy with my investigation. Thus we stretch the truth at great crises. I know you, was the answer, but keep away from the house. Our orders are imperative to allow no one to approach it again tonight, except with the child in hand, or with such news as would gain instant admission. Trust me, said I, and I went up the steps. It was so dark between the hedge-rows that my ascent became mere groping. I had a lantern in my pocket which I had taken from Jupp, but I did not choose to make use of it. I preferred to go on and up, trusting to my instinct to tell me when I had reached a fresh flight of steps. A gleam of light from Mrs. Carew's upper windows was the first intimation I received that I was at the top of the bank, and in another moment I was opposite the gap in the hedge opening upon her grounds. For no particular reason that I know of, I here paused and took a survey of what was, after all, nothing but a cluster of shadows broken here and there by squares of subdued light I felt a vague desire to enter. To see and to talk again with the charming woman whose personality had made such an impression upon me, if only to understand the peculiar feelings which those indistinguishable walls awakened, and why such a sense of anticipation should disturb my admiration of this woman, and the delight which I had experienced in every accent of her trained in exquisite voice. I was standing very still in almost total darkness. The shock, therefore, was great, when in finally making up my mind to move I became conscious of a presence near me, totally indiscernible, and as silent as myself. Whos? No watchman or he would have spoken at the rustle I made stumbling back against the hedgerow.  I would not waste time in speculating. Better to decide the question at once, for the situation was eerie. The person, whoever he was, stood so near and so still and so directly in the way of my advance. Drawing the lantern from my pocket, I pushed open the slide and flashed the light on the immovable figure before me. The face I beheld staring into mine was one quite unknown to me, but as I took in its expression my arm gradually fell and with it the light from the man's features, till face and form were lost again in the darkness, leaving in my disturbed mind not but an impression, but such an impression. The countenance thus flashed upon my vision must have been a haunting one at any time, but seen as I saw it, at a moment of extreme self-abandonment, the effect was startling. Yet I had sufficient control over myself to utter a word or two of apology which was not answered, if it was even heard. A more exact description may be advisable. The person whom I thus encountered hesitating before Mrs. Rue's house was a man of meager build, sloping shoulders and handsome but painfully pinched features. That he was a gentleman of culture and the nicest refinement was evident at first glance. That this culture and refinement were at this moment under the dominion of some fierce thought or resolve was equally apparent, giving to his look an absorption which the shock attending the glare I had thus suddenly thrown onto his face could not immediately dispel. Dazed by an encounter for which he seemed even less prepared than myself, he stood with his heart in his face, if I may so speak, and only gradually came to himself as the sense of my proximity forced itself upon his suffering and engrossed mind. When I saw that he had quite emerged from his dream I dropped the light, but I did not forget his look. I did not forget the man, though I hastened to leave him, in my desire to fulfill the purpose for which I had entered these grounds at so late an hour. My plan was, as I have said, to visit the Ocampa stables and have a chat with the coachman. I had no doubt of my welcome and not much doubt of myself. Yet as I left the vicinity of Mrs. Rue's cottage and came upon the great house of the Ocampas looming in the moonlight above its marble terrace, I felt impressed as never before by both the beauty and magnificence of the noble pile, and shrink with something like shame from the presumption which had led me to pit my wits against a mystery having its birth in so much grandeur and material power. The prestige of great wealth as embodied in this sub-perb structure well nigh awed me from my task, and I was passing the twin pergolas and flower-boarded walks with hesitating foot, when I heard through one of the open windows a cry which made me forget everything but our common heritage of sorrow and the equal hold it had on high and low. Filo! the voice rang out in misery, to ring a heart of the most callous. Filo! Filo! Mr. Ocampa's name called aloud by his suffering wife. Was it delirium? It would seem so. But why Filo! Always Filo! And not once, Gwendolyn! With hushed steps, ears ringing and heart palpitating with a new and indefinable sensation, I turned into the road to the stables. There were men about, and I caught one glimpse of a maids- pretty head looking from one of the rear windows, but no one stopped me, and I reached the stable just as a man came sauntering out to take his final look at the weather. It was the fellow I sought, Thomas the Coachman. I had not miscalculated the nature of my man. In ten minutes we were seated together on an open balcony, smoking and beguiling the time with a little harmless gossip. After a free and easy discussion of the great event, mingled with the naturally-to-be-expected criticism of the police, we proceeded under my guidance to those particulars for which I had risked losing this very valuable hour. He mentioned Mrs. Ocampa. I mentioned Mrs. Carew. A beautiful woman, I remarked. I thought he looked astonished. She, beautiful, was his doubtful rejoinder. What do you think of Mrs. Ocampa? She is handsome, too, but in a different way. I should think so. I've driven rich and I've driven poor. I've even sat on the box in front of an English duchess, but never have I seen such features as Mrs. Ocampa's. That's why I consent to drive an American millionaire's wife, when I might be driving the English nobility. A statue, said I, cold. True enough, but one you never tire of looking at. Besides, she can light up wonderfully. I have seen her when she was all a quiver and loveliest the loveliest. And when do you think that was? When she had her child in her arms, I spoke in lowered tones as befitted the suggestion and the circumstances. No, he drawled, between thoughtful puffs of smoke, when Mr. Ocampa sat on the seat beside her. This when I was driving the Victoria. I often used to make an excuse for turning my head about, so as to catch a glimpse of her smile at some fine view and the way she looked up at him to see if he was enjoying it as much as she. I like women who love their husbands. And he? Oh, she has nothing to complain of in him. He worships the ground she walks on, and more than worships the child. Here his voice fell. I brought the conversation back as quickly as I could to Mrs. Carew. You, like pale women, said I, know I like a woman who looks plain one minute and perfectly charming the next. That's what people say of Mrs. Carew. I know of lots who admire that kind, the little girl for one. Gwendolyn, was she attracted to Mrs. Carew? Attracted. I've seen her go to her from her mother's lap like a bird to its nest. Many a time have I driven the carriage with Mrs. Ocampa sitting up straight inside, and her child curled up in the other woman's arms with not a look or word for her mother. How did Mrs. Ocampa seem to like that? I asked between puffs of my cigar. Oh, she's one of the cold ones, you know. At least you say so. But I feel sure that the last three years, that is, ever since this woman came into the neighborhood, her heart has been slowly breaking.  I thought of the moaning cry of phylo phylo, which at intervals I still seem to hear issue from the upper window in the great house, and felt that there might be truth in his fears. But it was of Mrs. Carew I had come to talk, and not of Mrs. Ocampa. Children's fancies are unaccountable, I sententiously remarked. But perhaps there is some excuse for this one. Mrs. Carew has what you call a magnetic personality, a personality which I should imagine would be very appealing to a child. I never saw such expression in the human face. Whatever her mood, she impresses each passing feeling upon you as the one reality of her life. I cannot understand such changes, but they are very fascinating. Oh, they are easy to understand in her case. She was an actress once. I myself have seen her on the stage, in London. I used to admire her there. An actress, I repeated, somewhat taken aback. Yes, I forgot what name she played under, but she's a very great lady now, in with all the swells and rich enough to own a yacht if she wanted to. But a widow? Oh, yes, a widow. I let a moment of silence pass, then nonchalantly remarked. Why is she going to Europe? But this was too much for my simple-hearted friend. He neither knew nor had any conjecture ready. But I saw that he did not deplore her resolve. His reason for this presently appeared. If the little one is found, the mother will want all her caresses. Let Mrs. Carew hug the boy that God in his mercy has thrown into her arms and leave other children to their mothers. I rose to leave when I bethought me and stopped to ask another question. Who is the gentleman I have seen about here? A man with a handsome face, but very pale and thin in his appearance, so much so that it is quite noticeable. Do you mean Mr. Rathbone? I do not know his name, a light-complexioned man who looks as if greatly afflicted by some disease or secret depression. Oh, that is Mr. Rathbone, sure. He is sickly looking enough, and not without his trouble, too. They say, but it's all gossip, of course, that he has set his heart on the widow. Mrs. Carew? Of course, who else? And she? Why, she would be a fool to care for him—unless—unless what? Thomas laughed, a little uneasily I could not help thinking. I'm afraid we're talking scandals, said he. You know the relationship? What relationship? Why, his relationship to the family. He is Gwendolyn's cousin, and I have heard it said that he's named after her in Madam Ocampa's will. Oh, I see, the next air, eh? Yes, to the Rathbone property. So that if she's not found, your sickly man in that case would be well worth the marrying. Is Mrs. Carew so fond of money as all that? I thought she was a woman of property. She is, but it takes money to make some men interesting. He isn't handsome enough, or independent enough, to go entirely on his own merits. Besides, he has a troupe of relatives hanging on to him—blood-suckers who more than eat up his salary. A businessman, then? Yes, in some New York house. He was always very fond of Gwendolyn, and I am not surprised to hear that he is very much cut up by our trouble. I always thought well of Mr. Rathbone myself. Which same ended the conversation, so far as my interest in it was concerned. CHAPTER IX The Bungalow As soon as I could break away and leave him I did, and betook myself to Mrs. Carew's house. My resolve was taken. Late as it was, I would attempt an interview with her. The light still burning above and below gave me the necessary courage, yet I was conscious of some embarrassment in presenting my name to the astonished maid, who was in the act of extinguishing the hall light, when my vigorous ring prevented her. Seeing her doubtful look and the hesitation with which she held the door, I told her I would wait on the porch outside until she carried my name up to Mrs. Carew. This seemed to relieve her, and in a moment I was standing again under the vines waiting for permission to enter the house. It came very soon, and I had to conquer a fresh embarrassment at the sight of Mrs. Carew's nimble and gracious figure, descending the stairs in all eagerness to greet me. What is it, she asked, running hastily forward so that we met in the center of the hall. Good news! Nothing else could have brought you back again so soon, and at an hour so late. There was a dangerous naivete in the way she uttered the last three words which made me suspect the actress. And I was quite conscious, as I met her thrilling and expressive glance, that I should never again feel the same confidence in her sincerity. My judgment had been confounded, and my insight rendered helpless by what I had heard of her art, and the fact that she had once been a capable player of parts. But I was man enough and detective enough not to betray my suspicion now that I was brought face to face with her. It had always been latent in my breast, even in the very midst of my greatest admiration for her, yet I had never acknowledged to myself of what I suspected her, nor did I now, not quite, not enough to give that point to my attack which would have ensured me immediate victory or defeat. I was obliged to feel my way, and so answered with every appearance of friendly confidence. I fear, then, that I shall be obliged to ask your pardon. I have no good news. Rather, what might be called, if not bad, of a very perplexing character, the child has been traced. Here I purposely let my voice halt for an instant. Here. Here her eyes opened, her lips parted in a look of surprise so ingenuous that involuntarily I felt forced to add by way of explanation. The child, I mean, who was screaming along the highway in the wagon, and for whom the police, and others, have for two days been looking. Oh! She ejaculated with a slight turn of her head aside as she motioned me toward a chair. And is that child Gwendolyn, or don't you know? She was all eagerness as she faced me again. That will be known to-morrow, I rejoined, resisting the beautiful brightness of her face with an effort that must have left its mark on my own features. For she smiled with unconscious triumph as she held my eyes for a minute in hers, saying softly, Oh, how you excite me, tell me more. Where was the wagon found? Who is with it? And how much of all this have you told Mrs. Ocampa? With the last question she had risen involuntarily it seemed, and as though she would rush to her friend if I did not at once reassure her of that friend's knowledge of a fact which seemed to throw a gleam of hope upon a situation hitherto entirely unrelieved. Mrs. Ocampa has been told nothing, I hastily returned, answering the last and most important question first. Nor must she be, at least not until certainty replaces doubt. She is in a critical state, I am told. To rouse her hopes to-night, only to dash them again to-morrow would be cruel policy.  Then there are doubts, she faltered, doubts of it being Gwendolyn. There was always doubt, I replied, and openly paused in manifest noncommittal. Oh! she somewhat wildly exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, beautiful hands covered with jewels. What suspense! What bitter and cruel suspense! I feel it almost as much as if it were my Harry, was the final cry with which she dropped them again. And she did feel it. Her features had blanched and her form was shaking. But you have not answered my questions as to where this wagon is at present and under whose care. Can't you see how anxious I must be about that? If it should prove to be Gwendolyn? Mrs. Karoo, if I could tell you that, I could tell you more. We shall both have to wait till to-morrow. Meanwhile I have a favour to ask. Have you by any chance the means of entrance to the bungalow? I have a great and inappeasable desire to see for myself if all the nooks and corners of that place have given up their secrets. It's an egotistical desire, no doubt, and may strike you as folly of the rankest, but we detectives have learned to trust nobody in our investigations, and I shall never be satisfied till I have looked the whole spot over inch by inch for the clue which may yet remain there. If there is a clue, I must find it. Clue? She was looking at me a little breathlessly. Clue to what? Then she wasn't in the wagon? You are still seeking her? Always seeking her, I put in. But surely not in the bungalow? Mrs. Karoo's expression was one of extreme surprise. What can you find there? I do not know, but I want to look. I can go to the house for a key, but it is late, and it seems unpardonable to disturb Mrs. Okampai. Yet I shall have to do this if you do not have a key, for I shall not sleep till I have satisfied myself that nothing can be discovered on the immediate scene of Gwendolyn's disappearance, to help forward the rescue we are both so intent upon. You are right, was the hesitating reply I received. I have a key. I will fetch it if you do not mind. I will accompany you to the bungalow. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, I replied with my best bow. White lies come easy in our trade. I will not keep you a minute, she said, rising and going into the hall. But in an instant she was back. A word to my maid and a covering for my head, she explained, and I will be with you. Her manner pointed unmistakably to the door. I had no alternative but to step out onto the porch to await her. But she was true to her word, and in a moment she had joined me with the key in her hand. Oh, what adventures was her breathless cry? Will I ever forget this dreadful, this interminable week? But it is dark, even the moon is clouded over. How shall we see? There are no lights in the bungalow. I have a lantern in my pocket. My only hope is that no stray gleam from it may pierce the shrubbery and bring the police upon us. Do you fear the police, she chatted away, almost as a child might? No, but I want to do my work alone. There will be little glory or little money in it if I share any of my discoveries. Ah! It was an irrepressible exclamation. Or so it seemed. But I should not have noted it if I had not caught, or persuaded myself that I had caught, the oblique glint from her eye which accompanied it. But it was very dark just at this time, and I could be sure of nothing but that she kept close to my side, and seemed more than once on the point of addressing me in the short distance we traversed before reaching the bungalow. But nothing save inarticulate murmurs left her lips, and soon we were too busy in our endeavors to unlock the door, to think of conversation. The key she had brought was rusty, evidently she had not often made use of it. But after a few futile efforts I succeeded in making it work, and we stepped into the small building in a silence that was only less profound than the darkness in which we instantly found ourselves enveloped. Light was under my hand, however, and in another moment there opened before us the small square room whose every feature had taken on a ghostly and unfamiliar air from the strange hour and the unwanted circumstances. I saw how her impressionable nature was affected by the scene, and made haste to assume the offhand error I thought most likely to overcome her apprehension. But the effect of the blank walls before her, relieved, but in no reassuring way by the long dark folds of the rugs hanging straight down over the mysterious partition, held its own against my well-meant efforts, and I was not surprised to hear her voice falter as she asked what I expected to find there. I pointed to a chair and said, If you will sit down I will show you. Not what I expect to find, but how a detective goes about his work. Whatever our expectations, however small or however great, we pay full attention to details. Now the detail which has worried me in regard to this place is the existence of a certain space in this building unaccounted for by these four walls. In other words, the portion which lies behind these rugs, and throwing aside the same I let the flame of my lantern play over the walled-up space which I had before examined with little satisfaction. This partition I continued, seems as firm as any of the walls, but I want to make sure that it hides nothing, if the child should be in some hole back of this partition, what a horror and what an outrage. But it is impossible, came almost in a shriek from the woman behind me. The opening is completely walled up. I have never known of its being otherwise. It looked like that when I came here three years ago. There is no possible passage through that wall. Why was it ever closed up, do you know? Not exactly. The family are very reticent about it. Some fancy of Mr. Ocampa's father, I believe. He was an odd man. They tell all manner of stories about him. If anything offended him, he ridded himself of it immediately. He took a distaste to that end of the hut, as they used to call it in those days, before it was remodeled to suit the house. So he had it walled up. That is all we know about it. I wish I could see behind that wall, I muttered, dropping back the rug I had all this time held in my hand. I feel some mystery here which I cannot grasp. Then as I flashed my lantern about in every direction with no visible result, added with the effort which accompanies such disappointments, there is nothing here, Mrs. Carreux. Though it is the scene of the child's disappearance it gives me nothing. CHAPTER 10 The Sharp Russell of her dress as she suddenly rose struck upon my ear. Then let us go, she cried, with just a slight quiver of eagerness in her wonderful voice. I comprehended its culture now. This place is ghostly at this hour of the night. I believe that I am really afraid.  She was afraid. There was no other explanation possible for her wild-staring eyes and blue-quivering lips. For the instant I hardly knew her. Then her glance rose to mind, and she smiled, and it was with difficulty I refrained from acknowledging in words my appreciation of her wonderful flexibility of expression. You are astonished to see me so affected, she said. It is not so strange as you think. What is the superstition? The horror of what once happened here, the reason for that partition. I know the whole story, for all my attempts to deny it just now. The hour, too, is unfortunate. The darkness, your shifting mysterious light. It was late like this, and dark, with just the moon to illuminate the scene, when she, Mr. Trevitt, do you want to know the story of this place? The old, much guessed at, never really understood story, which led first to its complete abandonment, then to the building of that dividing-wall, and finally to the restoration of this portion and of this alone, do you? Her eagerness, in such startling contrast to the reticence she had shown on this very subject a few minutes before, affected me peculiarly. I wanted to hear the story. Someone would who had listened to the gossip of this neighborhood for years, but she evidently did not mean to give me time to understand my own hesitation. I have the whole story, the touching, hard-to-be-believed history, up at my house at this very moment. It was written by— No, I will let you guess. The naivete of her smile made me forget the force of its late expression. Mr. Ocampa, I ventured. Which Mr. Ocampa, there have been so many. She began slowly, naturally, to move toward the door. I cannot guess. Then I shall have to tell you. It was written by the one who— Come, I will tell you outside. I haven't any courage in here. But I have. You haven't read the story.  Oh, you have his story, written, and by himself? You are fortunate, Mrs. Karoo. I had turned the lantern from her face, but not so far that I did not detect the deep flush which died her whole countenance at these words. I am, she emphatically returned, meeting my eyes with the steady look I was not sufficiently expert with women's ways, or at all events with this woman's ways, to understand. Seldom has such a tale been written. Seldom, let us thank God, has there been an equal occasion for it. You interest me, I said. And she did. Little is this history might have to do with the finding of Gwendolyn. I felt an almost imperative necessity of satisfying my curiosity in regard to it, though I knew she had deliberately roused this curiosity for a purpose which, if not comprehensible to me, was of marked importance to her, and not altogether for the reason she had been pleased to give me. Possibly it was on account of this last mentioned conviction that I allowed myself to be so interested. It is late, she murmured with a final glance toward those dismal hangings which in my present mood I should not have been greatly surprised to see stir under her look. However, if you will pardon the hour and accept a seat in my small library I will show you what only one other person has seen besides myself. It was a temptation, for several reasons it was a temptation, yet.  I will go, said I, and following her quickly out I locked the bungalow door, and ignoring the hand she extended toward me, dropped the key into my pocket. I thought I heard a little gasp, the least the smallest of sounds possible, but if so the feeling which prompted it was not apparent in her manner, or her voice, as she led the way back to her house, and ushered me into a hall full of packing-boxes in the general litter accompanying and approaching departure. You will excuse the disorder, she cried as she piloted me through the various encumbrances, to a small but exquisitely furnished room, still glorying in its full complement of ornaments and pictures. This trouble which has come to what I love has made it very hard for me to do anything. I feel helpless, at times, completely helpless. The dejection she expressed was but momentary, however. In another instant she was pointing out a chair and begging me to make myself comfortable, while she went for the letter. I think she called it a letter, which I had come there to read. What was I to think of her? What was I to think of myself? And what would the story tell me to warrant the loss of what might have proved a most valuable hour? I had not answered these questions when she re-entered with a bundle in her hand, of discolored, I should almost call them mouldering, sheets of crumpled paper. These, she began, then seeing me look at them with something like suspicion, she paused until she caught my eye. When she added gravely, these came to me from Mrs. Ocampa. How she got them you will have to ask her. I should say judging from appearances. Here she took a seat opposite me at a small table, near which I had been placed, that they must have been found in some old chest or possibly in some hidden drawer, of one of those curious antique desks of which more than one was discovered in the garrets of the old house when it was pulled down to give place to the new one. Is this letter, as you call it, so old, I asked? It is dated thirty-five years ago. The garret must have been a damp one, I remarked. She flashed me a look. I thought of it more than once afterward and asked if she should do the reading or I. You, I rejoined all afire with the prospect of listening to her remarkable voice and what I had every reason to believe would call forth its full expression. Only let me look at those sheets first, and understand as perfectly as I may just what it is you are going to read to me. It's an explanation written for the heirs by Mr. Ocampa. The story itself she went on handing me over the paper she held begins abruptly. From the way the sheet is torn across at the top I judged that the narrative itself was preceded by some introductory words now lacking. When I have read it to you I will tell you what I think those introductory words were. I handed back the sheets. There seemed to be a spell in the air, possibly it arose from her manner, which was one to rouse expectation even in one whose imagination had not already been stirred by a visit at night and in more than commonly bewildering company to the place whose dark and hitherto unknown secret I was about to hear. I am ready, I said, feeling my strange position but not anxious to change it just then for any other conceivable one. She drew a deep breath, again fixing me with her strange compelling eyes and with the final remark, the present no longer exists. We are back in the seventies, began this enthralling tale. I did not move till the last line dropped from her lips.


Good morning guys, it is the day before Vlogger.  Well, because there's some special events happening today for the participant vloggers who are gonna be there. That's me. We got a tour of Seattle happening. What do they call that? Ride the Ducks, I think. Me and, oh, and it's raining, fantastic. I'm the one who comes to Seattle without an umbrella. That's fantastic. That's awesome. All right, so we're getting wet today and we're going on a Ride the Ducks tour. It's like an amphibious tour. You start off on the land, right? And it's like a bus. Later on, the bus just drives right out onto the water and then it's a water tour. So I don't know exactly how to explain it because I don't know what it is exactly, but it's gonna be fun, apparently.  I don't know which ones, but I know if there's a couple that are gonna be there. So we're gonna walk there and regret the entire way that we didn't bring an umbrella. Oh, I'm just glad I brought a case for my camera. All right, guys, so this is still gonna be a good day. You can't ruin my day today. It's Vlogger Fair this weekend. Okay, guys, we will make our way there. So I'm the one who comes to Seattle without an umbrella. Where'd it go, trucker Josh? Where'd it go? I know. I thought about it, but I had already packed it away because I'm moving, right? So now we gotta go over here and buy an umbrella. There's a drugstore on the corner there, apparently. I went to the desk and it works the closest place I can get an umbrella. Oh, okay, so we're gonna go get an umbrella so that we're not soaked by the time we get there. And then we're gonna walk over to ride the ducks. See who's all there. I just thought of it. I didn't bring a sweater either. I'm terrible at this traveling stuff. I'm good at traveling in a truck on land. Put me in a plane and I'm lost. I have no idea. So I forgot a sweater, but I won't need a sweater, but I will need an umbrella. Because I don't think I'll need a sweater. Hoping on it. I really don't wanna buy a sweater. All right. Dang it. Well, this way. That's where we're gonna go right there. Metrolipid, Metrolipid in market, whatever you. Bartell Drugs. Because they sell umbrellas at the drug store apparently. Who knew? Yeah, check this out. Wait. The thing's talks to you. Wait, wait, okay, okay. We're waiting. Bossy little thing. I'm waiting. You see me? Okay, I'm sorry, sorry. Okay, here we go. So we got our umbrella. I gotta open this thing. Oh, we gotta go before this thing gets angry at us. How do we, how do we do this? All right, oh, oh. All right, now I gotta figure out where to go.  I feel like Mary Poppins or something. It's not very manly holding an umbrella, as if I shouldn't show up to the other vloggers like this. I'll just keep it with myself, just in case, just in case. It is impossible to look manly holding an umbrella. I figure I'd say that. What? Oh, no, there's no one in my line. I don't wanna be the only one in line. I don't wanna be the only one in line. We just met up with a couple of other YouTubers here that you guys might recognize. You guys recognize any of these guys? A couple more over here. We've got Ellie and Jared, Brian and Missy. Hey guys. Hi. Hey. Missy and Ollie are in here. He's even cuter in person.  We're doing a ride to Ducks tour.  I don't know. But we all got these little duck calls. I don't know. We're just gonna be hanging out here, and that's the bus that we're going on. Wait, let's... These things start on the land, and then they go on the water. I don't know how that works. I don't know. Insane, and right by the... Is that called the Space Needle? I keep hearing word Space Needle. I think that's the Space Needle. I have no idea. No idea. All right, it's time to get on the boat bus. What do you guys call this? A duck or something. It's the duck mobile. I'm gonna go out a window. I don't know if there's any other... Whoa. All right, here we go. All right, you guys, that's it. That sound right there means you're officially my prisoner. He looks like a pilot. I think we might be flying, too, I don't know. Make some noise for me for a while. How we doing here? Cliff, what are we gonna do today? Oh, I don't know.  Tied all together with a little local history, I guess.  Whoo! All right, show me what you got. Make some noise for friends.  You and I are highly unlikely to see each other again.  We had a fire. Hell, let me say it to you this way. On June 6th of 1889, we had to surrender to the city of Seattle. From now on, see, I'm talking to them about miners' wear. We paid 75 bucks a month by the city. People on town see the hardest working guys, yeah. Why don't we finish this tour out in Norwegian style? What? That's duct tape. Tell me, should we go into the water faster, slow? So we have the camera, don't we? Don't drop the camera, we're all agonizing. Suspense. Will she float? She floats. I've never been on a vehicle like this before. Oh, you guys got all wet, too. Look at you. Dirty people. Now see, what do I gotta do to get a boat like that? That would be nice. I would just live in that. These are really nice boats here. Oh, that's like a house on the water. Crazy. Crazy guitar display at the EMP Museum. There's nearly 700 instruments. There's like 700 instruments on here. Isn't that insane? Jay Kanell, you would love this. If you're into Star Trek and whatnot, there's a lot of memorabilia and stuff here in the EMP Museum that you guys would be interested in. For me, it never really took off, but there's a lot of original pieces from the videos in here, apparently. Men in black. Well, that I've watched. What is this thing? This is the Ambius Anubis Guard Helmet used in Stargate 1994. So these are actual film props in here. There's a whole pile of people on the wall screaming in horror. Guys, remember, what was it called again? Wizard of Oz. Wizard of Oz, the evil witch's hat. That's the evil witch's hat. The actual one worn on set. Wait, did we go in here? Really? Did they go up there? Yeah. Does it come out the other side? Oh, it just goes out the other side. The lion, is this the actual lion suit? Yeah, I think it is. Looks like it. This is like my favorite movie for like, five years. When I was a kid. I don't know what that is. This is a museum where they have all the, I guess, articles of clothing and props that they actually use in the actual videos. In the actual movie, so. Here's the famous Seattle Fountain. This fountain is nuts. Here's the Space Needle. I found out what it is called, the Space Needle. I learned something. Space Needle. That's a Space Needle there. So we just went walking through the EMP Museum with Ty Moss and Gray, and Tim's Vlogs, and Ian Doki. Those are the four guys I was hanging out with there. Interesting, interesting museum. I mean, if you're into that kind of stuff, I guess. I'm sure there's a lot of you out there who are big into all that sci-fi, Star Trek stuff, as you can tell. I'm more into, you know, trucks. But it was fun going through there anyway. It was fun hanging out with them. Fun getting to know them a little bit. I'm gonna see them again tonight. It's part of the surprise tonight. And other than that, we're headed back to the hotel now to edit this up and get something to eat. Oh, well, we're back in the hotel here. That tour was awesome. I think we had the best tour guide they could have had. I was asking, do you have your own channel, man? Because you would do well. He was very animated, very excited, got us all involved with everything as you could tell from the video. So we had a pretty good time. So I met a couple of the other vloggers that I was talking to you about before. And I'm excited to see them again later tonight. As from now, I'm gonna put all this footage onto the computer and start editing it just to get a head start on it. And at three o'clock, I think Austin has a meetup, the fountain that I showed you. It's Austin Null from the Knife Nulls. I wanna go meet him and his family and whatnot and everyone around there and other than that. There's a lot of walking in Seattle. Did you know that? They got hills here. Man, it was like a mile uphill both ways. This is what it felt like. I'm such a whiner. All right guys, so I will talk to you later. All right guys, so we're on our way to a meetup right now. Austin Null from the Knife Nulls is having his meetup in about 10 minutes at the fountain just on the other side of all those bushes by that tower over there. I'm gonna go there, shake his hand, say hello, introduce myself. So we're here. This is where they're supposed to be somewhere. There's a lot of people here from before. I don't know if they're all just here just to be here or if they're here also to meet the Knife Nulls. No idea, but we're here. This fountain is huge, it's enormous. Just keep wandering around. I'm gonna need a nap. It's tiring traveling and all this stuff. All right, we're here at the meetup with more familiar faces. Mech, Hulk, and Kyle. He's a boy too. A lot of boys just want to get knocked to the ground.  And here's daily bumps, taking pictures. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Oh, that's a big hole, man. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. How's it going? What's your job? Trucker Josh. Trucker Josh. All right, guess me? Me? Yeah. All right, Jayden John, this is for you. You wanted to meet. What up? John and Jayden! I love you guys, you know what I mean? Just on his story, we were at a stoplight another day and we're sitting next to an 18 wheeler. I said, Katie, look at that. Just right behind that guy's driver seat is his house, basically. Like, it's just so cool. We have the whole living quarters still up. Yeah, we're sitting there. So anyway, yeah, props to you. Look at this guy.    Yeah, Jayden Jones. I'm giving you shout outs out here. We're not forgetting you. We wish you could be here. All right, we're taking pictures here. We're taking pictures and vlogging at the same time. Look at those. See, that turned out. Yeah, it turned out. Yeah. Lots of pictures. Lots of pictures happening. Lots of people, lots of people. Hi. Well, the meetup is over a minute. Fun of awesome YouTubers. I hope I got them all on camera. I can't remember whether or not I had the camera out the entire time or not. But, Jayden John, I know you wanted to give a special shout out to Colin and Katie. So there you go. I got them in there for you. Great people. They're real down-to-earth, really good people. And they've been watching your videos. They've seen your videos before. They knew who you were. So, just like, no.  I think I'm gonna take a nap, honestly. We've got another thing going on this evening yet, another event with the vloggers. So I'm gonna need to be rested up for that because it's a big one. And I wanna be completely rested up. Back in the hotel once again. Smells like marijuana in here. It is hemp week. Hi. Ancient Vlogs. So yeah, really good time meeting all of them. There was too many to name there. Vloggers that are family vloggers. Vloggers that are tech vloggers. Vloggers that are just vlogger vloggers. And then there's the trucker vlogger. Had a really good time. Everyone was so nice. Like, you see them in their videos and they're just like that in real life. So, it's a good time. I think I'm gonna have a nap now though because we have an event, like I was telling you. Oh, later on tonight with the vloggers. And I wanna be awake and alert for that. All right, so I'm home from our special event. It was a very special event. It was what they called an intimate reception for the VIP vloggers, which are all the participant vloggers. If you wanna know who is all there, you can go to the vloggerfare.com website and go down to participant vloggers and see all of them that were there. I'll list off a few that I hung out with the most there and talked with the most. There was the family vloggers were there. There was Cullen and Katie. There was Ellie and Jared, or Jared and Ellie. How do they say it? They were there. Brian and Missy Lanning, Daily Bumps. Gabe was there from GabeAbeTV. Shay Carl and Colette were there. I got to hang out with them. That was awesome. And Ty Moss and Gray were there. Oh, and I met so many new vloggers there.  And I've got a lot of footage today that goes through already. But if you wanna know who is all there, go to the participant vlogger website and you can find them and I met them all. I got to meet Tyler Oakley and who's a great guy too. Very interested in what I did actually. Actually, everyone there because I was the only trucking vlogger there, everyone was very interested in saying, you drive a truck? You travel around North America and you make vlogs. That is awesome. You know, a lot of them are like, we didn't hear about this before. I'm like, that's why I'm here. To introduce my community, our community, not just mine, to the rest of the YouTube world. To let us know, here we are. We are here, we are strong. We have a very tight knit community here on the internet, on the YouTube. And I am here as an ambassador, you might say, to the rest of YouTube to say, hey, here we are. And to hang out with some pretty cool vloggers. I mean, Shay Carl was there and he's got a lot of followers, right? And he made time to go talk to everybody. I was actually one of the first people he came to talk to. He came in there with Colette and they had Bro-Tard. And as he was walking past me, Shay's man, hey, how's it going? Hey, trucker Josh, he sits down or leans up on the counter beside me, starts talking to me about trucking. And because him and his brother used to drive. Casey had a CDL and Shay used to drive a bus. So we could relate on that right away. We talked about that for a little while and sat and talked with Ty Moss there for a while. And Gabe, man, we got so many different ideas and just slow them back and forth and just, it was great to be a part of it. It was a real honor to be there and I can go on and on and on about how awesome it was, but you guys can obviously tell. I'm really excited. I had a really good time. I'm tired. I'm gonna end the vlog here and tomorrow is the actual vlogger fair. And then I gotta go home. And then I gotta work for a week and then move. But I am so excited that I met these people here. You know, all of the vloggers are even better in real life. Then on the internet. Jade and John, I know you guys are big fans of Colin and Katie. I gave them a special shout out. You probably saw it in this video or the last one where we gave you a shout out in there. And let me tell you, those guys are even better in real life. Real, down to earth people, just ready to hang out and chat. Yeah. And he's already heard, a lot of them have already heard about my vlogs. They've heard about some of your vlogs out there that you guys are making. So it was a success. It's been a success so far. I've been talking for almost four minutes already. We gotta end this vlog right now. I'll talk to you again tomorrow guys. 4 a.m. Central time. Be there.