went slowly down the long hall and until he heard him going up stairs.

Then locking the door, which shut him in with the dead, he took the
photograph from his pocket and examined it minutely, feeling no shadow
of doubt in his heart that it was Gretchen--if the picture in the window
was like her. It was the same face, the same sweet mouth and sunny blue
eyes, with curls of reddish-golden hair shading the low brow. The dress
was different and more in accordance with that of a girl who belonged to
the middle class, but this counted for nothing, and Frank felt himself a
thief, and a liar, and a murderer as he stood looking at the lovely
face; and debating what he should do.

Turning it over he saw on the back a word traced in English letters, in
a very uncertain scrawling hand, as if it were the writer's first
attempt at English. Spelling it letter by letter he made out what he
called 'Wiesbaden,' and knew it was some German town. Did Gretchen live
there, he wondered, and how could he find out, and what should he do? He
had not yet seen the child at the cottage, but from some things Harold
said, he knew she was more like this picture than like the dead woman
found with her, and in his heart he felt almost sure who she was, and
that his course of duty was plain. He ought to show Arthur the
photograph, and tell him his suspicions, and take every possible step to
ascertain who the woman was and where she came from.

Frank was not a bad man, nor a hard-hearted man, but he was ambitious
and weak. He had enjoyed money, and ease, and position long enough to
make him unwilling to part with them now, while for his children he was
more ambitious than for himself. To see Tom master of Tracy Park was the
great desire of his life, and this could not be, if what he feared were
proved true. If Arthur had no wife, no child, no will adverse to him,
why, then his interest was safe, for no will his brother could now make
would be held as valid, and when he died everything would naturally go
to him. Of all this Frank thought during the few minutes he staid in
the silent room. Then he said to himself:

'I will see the child first. After all I know nothing for certain--can
never know anything for certain, and I should be a fool to give up all
my children's interests for a fancy, an idea, which may have no
foundation. Arthur does not know half the time what he is saying, and
might not tell the truth about Gretchen. She may not have been his