ued Fitz,
eloquently; for he was still burning under the sense of his own wrongs.
"If that child died, the block of stores, according to my grandfather's
will, was to come to my mother. That child did die, in my opinion."

"What makes you think so?" asked Andre, interested, in spite of
himself, in the story.

"What makes me think so?" repeated Mr. Wittleworth, magnificently. "Am
I a man of ordinary common sense? Have I lived to attain my present
stature without growing wiser with every day of life I lived? Of what
avail are my judgment, my knowledge, and my experience, if I cannot
penetrate a sham so transparent as this? What makes me think so? Does a
man of wealth and influence leave his own child among strangers, in a
foreign land, for ten years? No! I repeat it, no!"

"You say the child was sent to the cholera hospital?" asked Andre,
nervously.

"She was; but in my opinion she died there."

"O, she died there--did she?" said Andre, with apparent relief.

"Checkynshaw says she did not die; I say she did."

"Why should he say she didn't die, if she did die?" inquired Maggie,
very innocently.

"Why should he? Why, indeed?" repeated Fitz, amazed at her obtuseness.
"Don't you see that, if the child died, the block of stores belongs to
my mother? But it makes no difference now," sighed Mr. Wittleworth,
"for my mother, contrary to my advice, contrary to my solemn protest,
sold out all her right in the premises for a mere song."

"But where is the child now?"

"Dead!" replied Fitz, in a sepulchral tone.

"Mr. Checkynshaw does not say so," persisted Andre. "What does he say
about the child?"

"He says the child was taken by the Sisters of Charity, and that he
found her in one of their nunneries or schools; but of course that is
all bosh."

Mr. Wittleworth had told his story, and having done so, he tore himself
away, leaving Andre very thoughtful.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE TWO MARGUERITES.

When Mr. Wittleworth passed out into the street, the excitement of the
argument subsided. He felt that he had thoroughly and completely
demolished Mr. Checkynshaw, and that nothing more could be said in the
banker's favor after what he had said against him. The great man need
not attempt to hold up his head again, after that.

Mr. Checkynshaw had actually paid the reward to Maggie. It was strange,
but it was true; and the saddest part of it was, Mr. Wittleworth had
received no share of the money. He had given his va