"Without the notable Mr.
Cutbill's aid we should never have chanced on those papers you have just
quoted to us."

"Has he been housebreaking again?" asked Sedley, with a grin.

"I protest," interposed Bramleigh, "if the good fairy who has been so
beneficent to us were only to see us sparring and wrangling in this
fashion, she might well think fit to withdraw her gift."

"Oh, here's Julia," cried Nelly; "and all will go right now."

"Well," said Julia, "has any one moved the thanks of the house to
Mr. Sedley; for if not, I 'm quite ready to do it. I have my speech
prepared."

"Move! move!" cried several, together.

"I first intend to have a little dinner," said she; "but I have ordered
it in the small dining-room; and you are perfectly welcome, any or all
of you, to keep me company, if you like."

To follow the conversation that ensued would be little more than
again to go over a story which we feel has been already impressed with
tiresome reiteration on the reader. Whatever had failed in Sedley's
narrative, Julia's ready wit and quick intelligence had supplied by
conjecture, and they talked on till late into the night, bright gleams
of future projects shooting like meteors across the placid heaven of
their enjoyment, and making all bright around them.

Before they parted it was arranged that each should take his separate
share of the inquiry; for there were registries to be searched, dates
confirmed in several places; and while L'Estrange was to set out for
Louvain, and Jack for Savoy, Sedley himself took charge of the weightier
question to discover St. Michel, and prove the burial of Godfrey
Bramleigh.

CHAPTER LXVII. A WAYFARER

When the time came for the several members of the family at the villa
to set out on the search after evidence, Jack, whose reluctance to leave
home--he called it "home"--increased with every day, induced Cutbill to
go in his stead, a change which even Mr. Sedley himself was forced to
admit was not detrimental to the public service.

Cutbill's mission was to Aix, in Savoy, to see and confer with Marie
Pracontal, the first wife of Baldassare. He arrived in the nick of time;
for only on that same morning had Baldassare himself entered the town,
in his galley-slave uniform, to claim his wife and ask recognition
amongst his fellow-townsmen. The house where she lived was besieged by
a crowd, all more or less eager in asserting the woman's cause,
and denouncing the pretensions of