k,' cried Bertha, calling him thus for the first time, 'I do not
know how to thank you enough. You have done me an infinite kindness.'

'Do not thank me yet,' he answered, 'for though I do not in the least
believe that this fellow is the child's father, he may find his way to
the certificates or get them forged; and it would be well to trace what
has become of the real Jones, as well as to make out about this Rattler.
Is it true that the wife died at Rotherhithe?'

'Quite true, poor thing. I believe they had lived there since the
marriage.'

'I will run down there if you can give me the address, and see if I can
make out anything about her husband, and see whether any one can speak to
his identity with this man.'

'You are a man of gold! To think of your taking all this trouble!'

'I only hope I may succeed. It is a return to old habits of hunting up
evidence.'

Bertha was able to give the address of the lodging-house where poor Mrs.
Jones had died, and the next morning produced another document, which had
been shut up in the Bible that had been rescued for the child, namely the
marriage lines of David Jones and Lucy Smith at the parish church of the
last Lord Northmoor's residence in town.

To expect a clergyman or clerk to remember the appearance of a bridegroom
eight years ago was too much, even if they were the same who had
officiated; but Bertha undertook to try, and likewise to consult a former
fellow-servant of poor Lucy, who was supposed to have abetted her
unfortunate courtship. Frank, after despatching a letter of inquiry to
his sister-in-law about 'Sam Rattler,' set forth by train and river
steamer for Rotherhithe.

When they met again in the evening, Bertha had only made out from the
fellow-servant that the stoker was rather small, and had a reddish beard
and hair, wherewith Cea's complexion corresponded.

The Rotherhithe discoveries had gone farther. Lord Northmoor had
penetrated to the doleful den where the poor woman had died, and no
wonder! for it seemed, as Bertha had warned him, a nest of fever and
horrible smells. The landlady remembered her death, which had been made
memorable by Miss Morton's visits; but knew not whence she had come,
though, stimulated by half-a-crown, she mentioned a small grocery shop
where more might be learnt. There the woman did recollect Mrs. Jones as
a very decent lady, and likewise her being in better lodgings until
deserted by her husband, the scamp, who h