sion. The
child--yes, he might worm that fact out of the child if he were where he
could reach her; but he was miles away; and besides, something within him
revolted from involving this child further in schemes honest enough from
his standpoint, but certainly not helpful to her. No, he would have to
trust his intuition, or--

He had thrown himself into a chair at the side of his host, but he rose
quickly as his musings reached this point. The proof he had been looking
for was his. In recalling the child to mind there had flashed upon his
inner vision an instantaneous picture of her appearance as she stooped to
pick up his stick in front of the drug-store. He saw again the bending
figure, the flushed cheeks and the flaxen locks surmounted by a little
hat. Ah! it was that little hat! The impression it had made upon him was
greater than he thought. He found that he remembered not only its
ribbons, but the bunches of curiously tinted flowers hanging down in
front. And these bunches, or some precisely like them, had been the
sole trimming of the hat he had been contemplating so long from the other
side of the window. The woman was Madame Duclos. These flowers had been
taken from the child's hat and pinned upon the aunt's; and it was their
familiar look which had given him, without any recognition of the reason,
his surety as to the latter's identity.

Calmed immensely by this assurance, he turned back to have another word
with the proprietor, now busily engaged with his newspaper.

"Will you be obliging enough to see that I'm given an opportunity for a
few words with this Phil Jenkins on his return?" he asked. "And if you
will be so good, respect my confidence till I am sure I have made no
mistake in thinking what I have of his passenger."

The proprietor nodded, and Mr. Gryce settled himself again inside to
watch for the rowboat's return.

What he learned that night from this man Jenkins calmed him still
further. The woman had acknowledged, on leaving him, that she was going
to seek work at the factory. "A little old for the job," the man
volunteered, "but spry. How she did clamber up that bank!"

It was enough; Mr. Gryce was satisfied, and engaged a seat in his small
boat for the following day.

XXIII

GIRLS, GIRLS! NOTHING BUT GIRLS!

The superintendent was puzzled and showed it. He listened to Mr. Gryce
with a shrug, saying that so many women had been taken on that day, that
he really couldn't remember