de or seem ungrateful, but I am afraid that in your
hospitality you would urge me to remain until the documents are verified
at least, and I really cannot do so. If I have been an impostor, it was
an unconscious one. Nevertheless, I could not endure a false position.
Will you permit me once more to thank you and your family for all your
kindness to me, and believe me to be,

"'Ever gratefully yours,

"'BILLIE ABERCROMBIE.'"

"----Poor little girl! I say, where did she get that 'Abercrombie' from?"

"Don't you see?" Ripley Halstead bent forward.

"That's the name on that document; the name of the man who adopted her,
'Gentleman Geoff.' She won't claim 'Murdaugh' and doesn't accept
'Hillery,' so she's chosen the one name she's sure of. Do you suppose
that means she is going to contest the validity of this new claim?"

"Possibly." North shook his head. "It would be a losing fight for her,
though, Ripley. There isn't a chance in the world that Wiley's discovery
could be anything but authentic. No one profits by the affair except
your own family and no one could have any possible incentive for faking
the story. It's too bad the truth didn't come out before, and I'll
always blame myself for my negligence, but as long as a mistake was made,
it is lucky for us that Wiley stumbled on those records now instead of
later, when the fortune was in her hands."

His mission accomplished, Dan was returning to the garage to put the car
up and proceed on foot to his daily round of the hospitals and bureaus of
inquiry, when half-way down the block a shrill voice piped at him.

"Hot tomales! Very fine hot tomales. Try one, Mister!"

Idly he glanced toward the curb. A diminutive, ragged vender crouched
there beside a bright, new hand-cart which contained a huge pot simmering
above a charcoal fire, and bore a sign with the legend "Hot Tomales, 5
cents," in obviously home-made lettering.

His mind intent on his errand of the morning, Dan gave it but passing
heed and drove on into the garage, yet as he busied himself about the
car, the incident kept recurring to his mind. Hot tomales were a queer
commodity for a street-seller to deal in; Dan didn't know exactly what
they were, but he believed them to be some sort of Spanish or Mexican
concoction----

At this point in his cogitations he stopped work abruptly and stood
staring into vacancy.

There had been something appealingly familiar even in that fleeting
glimp