e's left a baby boy at home, and
she's fearful that something will happen to him, and she's frightened
at being at sea, frightened at being alone in London; it's pitiful." The
old man shook his head. "Pitiful! Will you talk to her now?" he asked.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ford. "She doesn't want to tell the story of her
life to strange young men."

"But it was she suggested it," cried the doctor. "She asked me if you
were Austin Ford, the great detective."

Ford snorted scornfully. "She did not!" he protested. His tone was that
of a man who hopes to be contradicted.

"But she did," insisted the doctor, "and I told her your specialty was
tracing persons. Her face lightened at once; it gave her hope. She will
listen to you. Speak very gently and kindly and confidently. Say you are
sure you can find him."

"Where is the lady now?" asked Ford.

Doctor Sparrow scrambled eagerly to his feet. "She cannot leave her
cabin," he answered.

The widow, as Ford and Doctor Sparrow still thought of her, was lying on
the sofa that ran the length of the state-room, parallel with the lower
berth. She was fully dressed, except that instead of her bodice she wore
a kimono that left her throat and arms bare. She had been sleeping,
and when their entrance awoke her, her blue eyes regarded them
uncomprehendingly. Ford, hidden from her by the doctor, observed that
not only was she very pretty, but that she was absurdly young, and
that the drowsy smile she turned upon the old man before she noted the
presence of Ford was as innocent as that of a baby. Her cheeks were
flushed, her eyes brilliant, her yellow curls had become loosened and
were spread upon the pillow. When she saw Ford she caught the kimono so
closely around her throat that she choked. Had the doctor not pushed her
down she would have stood.

"I thought," she stammered, "he was an OLD man."

The doctor, misunderstanding, hastened to reassure her. "Mr. Ford is old
in experience," he said soothingly. "He has had remarkable success.
Why, he found a criminal once just because the man wore a collar. And
he found Walsh, the burglar, and Phillips, the forger, and a gang of
counterfeiters--"

Mrs. Ashton turned upon him, her eyes wide with wonder. "But MY
husband," she protested, "is not a criminal!"

"My dear lady!" the doctor cried. "I did not mean that, of course not. I
meant, if Mr. Ford can find men who don't wish to be found, how easy for
him to find a man who--" He turned