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To my dying day I'll never forget that little house, away out on the hillside, he took me to in his shabby little car. Just two tiny rooms, but they were clean and quiet, and a girl with the sweetest face I ever saw, lay in the bed with her eyes bright with pride, and a tiny, tiny little bundle close beside her. The young farmer was red with embarrassment and anxiety. "You villain!" cried that lady, starting from her seat. "Do you think I want to see you after all the misery you have caused? Why, I refuse even to remain in the same room with you." And with a furious gesture the Creole swept past Etwald and out of the door, which she banged loudly. Etwald looked at the door, shrugged his shoulders, and turned politely to the major. "Yes. I heard the poor lad's cry," said Jen, simply, "and I ran down at once. You must have been very quick in your movements." Of course, busybodies, who saw their well-meant but meddlesome advice thus rejected, were by no means pleased, and some even went so far as to say that the shock of death and disappearance had unsettled Jen's reason. They spoke to David and counseled him to look well after his guardian, and said also that the major, if he had his senses about him, which was doubtful, should engage a smart London detective to investigate the case. But, as has been before stated, Jen had concluded to be his own detective..