you, I will ask you to see that she gets it."

The girl looked down at the parcel, then up at him, and reaching out her
hand, took it.

His old heart, which had almost stopped, beat again naturally and with
renewed strength. He was on the correct trail. When Mrs. Duclos and the
rest of them had said that they knew of no one of their name in this
country but themselves, it was because the Madame of the Hotel Universal
was of their family--the widow of their brother, as this child's
acknowledgment showed.

He was turning back to his taxi when the child, still trembling very
much, took a step toward him and said:

"I don't know where to find my aunt. She didn't tell us where she was
going; and--and I had rather not take this parcel back with me. Mother
don't like us to speak of Aunt Nettie; and--and I don't believe Aunt
Nettie would care to have this now. Won't--won't you forget about it,
sir, if I promise to tell her some day that it was brought back and I
wouldn't take it?"

Mr. Gryce felt a qualm of conscience. The child really was too simple to
be made game of. Besides, he felt sure that she had spoken the truth, so
far as she herself was concerned. She didn't know where her erratic aunt
had gone; and any further questioning would only frighten her without
winning him the knowledge he sought. He therefore took the parcel back,
said some soothing words and made his way across the walk to his taxi.
But the number he gave the chauffeur was that of the house where this
little girl lived.

He arrived there first. To him, waiting in the parlor and very near the
window, her shrinking little figure looked pathetic enough, as glancing
in at the taxi, and finding it empty, she realized who might be awaiting
her under her mother's eye. He remembered his grandchild, and made up his
mind, as she slid nervously in, that no matter what happened he would
keep this innocent child out of trouble.

The lady who presently came in to receive him was one who called him
instinctively to his feet in respect and admiration. She was an American
and of the best type, a woman who, if she told a lie, would not tell it
for her own comfort or gain, but to help some one else to whom she owed
fealty or love. But would she lie for anyone? As he studied her longer,
taking in, in his own way, the candid expression of her eye and the sweet
but firm set of her lips, he began to think she would not, and the
interest with which he proceeded to addre