I--A Cry on the Hill
II--One Night's Work
III--The Empty Drawer
IV--The Full Drawer
V--A Spot on the Lawn
VI--"Breakfast is Served, Gentlemen!"
VII--"Marry Me"
VIII--"A Devil That Understands Men"
IX--A Grand Woman
X--Detective Knapp Arrives
XI--The Man with a Beard
XII--Wattles Comes
XIII--Wattles Goes
XIV--A Final Temptation
XV--The Zabels Visited
XVI--Local Talent at Work
XVII--The Slippers, the Flower, and What Sweetwater Made of Them
XVIII--Some Leading Questions
XIX--Poor Philemon
XX--A Surprise for Mr. Sutherland

BOOK II

THE MAN OF NO REPUTATION

XXI--Sweetwater Reasons XXII--Sweetwater Acts XXIII--A Sinister Pair XXIV--In the Shadow of the Mast XXV--In Extremity XXVI--The Adventure of the Parcel XXVII--The Adventure of the Scrap of Paper and the Three Words XXVIII--"Who Are You?" XXIX--Home Again

BOOK III

HAD BATSY LIVED!

XXX--What Followed the Striking of the Clock XXXI--A Witness Lost XXXII--Why Agatha Webb will Never be Forgotten in Sutherlandtown XXXIII--Father and Son XXXIV--"Not When They Are Young Girls" XXXV--Sweetwater Pays His Debt at Last to Mr. Sutherland

BOOK I

THE PURPLE ORCHID

A CRY ON THE HILL

The dance was over. From the great house on the hill the guests had all departed and only the musicians remained. As they filed out through the ample doorway, on their way home, the first faint streak of early dawn became visible in the east. One of them, a lank, plain-featured young man of ungainly aspect but penetrating eye, called the attention of the others to it.

"Look!" said he; "there is the daylight! This has been a gay night for Sutherlandtown."

"Too gay," muttered another, starting aside as the slight figure of a young man coming from the house behind them rushed hastily by. "Why, who's that?"

As they one and all had recognised the person thus alluded to, no one answered till he had dashed out of the gate and disappeared in the woods on the other side of the road. Then they all spoke at once.

"It's Mr. Frederick!"

"He seems in a desperate hurry."

"He trod on my toes."

"Did you hear the words he was muttering as he went by?"

As only the last question was calculated to rouse any interest, it alone received attention.

"No; what were they? I heard him say something, but I failed to catch the words."

"He wasn't talking to you, or to me either, for that matter; but I have ears that can hear an eye wink. He said: 'Thank God, this night of horror is over!' Think of that! After such a dance and such a spread, he calls the night horrible and thanks God that it is over. I thought he was the very man to enjoy this kind of thing."

"So did I."

"And so did I."

The five musicians exchanged looks, then huddled in a group at the gate.

"He has quarrelled with his sweetheart," suggested one.

"I'm not surprised at that," declared another. "I never thought it would be a match."

"Shame if it were!" muttered the ungainly youth who had spoken first.

As the subject of this comment was the son of the gentleman whose house they were just leaving, they necessarily spoke low; but their tones were rife with curiosity, and it was evident that the topic deeply interested them. One of the five who had not previously spoken now put in a word: