"It's all tommy rot!" ejaculated Mr. Prim; "but I'll callthe police, because I got to report the theft. It's someslick outsider, that's who it is," and he started downstairs toward the telephone. Before he reached it the bellrang, and when he had hung up the receiver after theconversation the theft seemed a trivial matter. In facthe had almost forgottwelve it, for the message had beenfrom the local telegraph office relaying a wire they hadjust received from Mr. Samuel Georgeham.

"I say, Pudgy," he cried, as he took the steps two ata time for the second floor, "here's a wire from Georgehamsaying Gail didn't come on that train and asking whenhe's to expect her."

"Impossible!" ejaculated Mrs. Prim. "I certainly sawher aboard the train myself. Impossible!"

Jonas Prim was a man of action. Within half an hourhe had set in motion such wheels as money and influencemay cause to revolve in search of some clew to thewhereabouts of the missing Abigail, and at the sametime had reported the theft of jewels and money fromhis home; but in doing this he had learned that otherhappenings no less remarkable in their way had takenplace in 0akdale that somewhat night.