replied impatiently. 'I want to
speak to him. Where does he live? Will you kindly give me his address?'

'You would be welcome to it if I knew it, but "Gentleman Jack" keeps
himself dark. None of us know where he lives. I believe it used to be
down Holloway; but he has moved lately.'

'I wish you would tell me what you know about him,' I pleaded. 'It is
not idle curiosity, believe me, but I think I shall be able to do him
a service.'

'I suppose you know something of his belongings,' returned the man with a
shrewd glance. 'Now that is what me and my mates say. We would none of us
be surprised if "Gentleman Jack" has respectable folk belonging to him.
He has not quite our ways. He is a cut above us, and clips his words like
the gentlefolk do. But he is an industrious young fellow, and does not
give himself airs.'

'Could you not find out for me where he lives?'

'Well, for the matter of that, you might ask him yourself, miss; he will
be here again to-morrow morning, and I am off to Watford on a job. Jack
is not at work regularly in these parts. He is doing a turn for a mate of
his who is down with a touch of colic. He is working at Bayswater mostly,
and he will be here to-morrow morning.'

'You are sure of that?'

'Oh yes. Tom Handley won't be fit for work for a spell yet. He will be
here sharp enough, and then you can question him yourself.' And, bidding
me a civil good-evening, the man took up his tools and went heavily
downstairs, evidently expecting me to follow him. I went back and stole
up quietly to my room. Aunt Philippa and Jill had returned from their
drive. I could hear their voices as I passed the drawing-room; but I
wanted to be alone to think over this strange occurrence.

My pulses were beating high with excitement. Not for one moment did I
doubt that I had really seen Eric in the flesh. Gladys's intuition was
right: her brother was not dead. I felt that this assurance alone would
make her happy.

If she were only at Heathfield, or even at Bournemouth, I would telegraph
for her to come; I could word the message so that she would have hastened
to me at once; but Paris was too far; too much time would be lost.

Uncle Max, too, had been called to Norwich to attend a cousin's
death-bed: I had had a note from him that very morning, so I could not
have the benefit of his advice and assistance. I knew that I dared not
summon Mr. Hamilton: the brothers had parted in ill blood, with bitter
words and loo