"Not me; but I'm new here. Better try in the station," the conductor suggested.
"I've time?"
"Think so," the conductor said doubtfully.
Ethel turned about quickly and moved nearer. The evident fact that the young man did not know the place where he was going upset her theory of him; but he was asking about St. Florentin.
"I can tell you about St. Florentin," she offered. "It's the name of an old mill town which hasn't been on the map for twenty years, I reckon. It's near Quesnel; you take this train and get off there; then it's ten miles across country."
The young man bared his head, and his pleasant gray eyes lighted a little with excitement.
"You know it! Thank you!" he said. "That's just what I wanted to know."
"If you're going to St. Florentin," Ethel continued to volunteer impulsively, "you must be going to see my grandfather."
"Why?"
"Because he's the only man—except his servants—who lives there. It's a deserted village, except for his house."
"His name is Bagley?"
"No; Cullen—Lucas Cullen."
"Then there's no one named Bagley?"
"Not that I've ever heard of."
"Or Carew?"
Ethel started a little. "My name is Carew."
"It is! Then your father's there—or is going to be there, Miss Carew?"
"My father has not been in St. Florentin for more than twenty years," Ethel said. "And now—my
