he gold mine that belongs to him?"

"Artie had only wan mark on him as a boy ... he was the most spotless
child I ever saw ... an' that was a mole on his right shoulder. He tuk
it wid him to California, an' he brought it back, for I saw it meself in
the same spot while he was sick, an' I called his attintion to it, an'
he was much surprised, for he had never thought of it wanst."

"It's my opinion," said Curran solemnly, "that he can prove his identity
without exposing his life in the west. I hope to persuade him to it.
Maybe the photographs of himself and his father would help. Have you any
copies of them?"

"There's jist two. I wudn't dare to take thim out of his room, but if ye
care to walk up-stairs, Mr. Curran, an' luk at thim there, ye're
welcome. He an' his mother are away the night to a gran' ball."

They entered Arthur's apartments together, and Judy showed the pictures
of Arthur Dillon as a boy of fourteen, and of his youthful father; old
daguerreotypes, but faithful and clear as a likeness. Judy rattled on
for an hour, but the detective had achieved his object. She had no share
in the secret.

Arthur Dillon was his father's son, for her. He studied the pictures,
and carefully examined the rooms, his admiration provoking Judy into a
display of their beauties. With the skill and satisfaction of an artist
in man-hunting, he observed how thoroughly the character of the young
man displayed itself in the trifles of decoration and furnishing.

The wooden crucifix with the pathetic figure in bronze on the wall over
the desk, the holy water stoup at the door, carved figures of the Holy
Family, a charming group, on the desk, exquisite etchings of the Christ
and the Madonna after the masters, a _prie-dieu_ in the inner room with
a group of works of devotion: and Edith had declared him no Catholic.
Here was the refutation.

"He is a pious man," Curran said.

"And no wan sees it but God and himself. So much the betther, I say,"
Judy remarked. "Only thim that had sorra knows how to pray, an' he prays
like wan that had his fill of it."

The tears came into the man's eyes at the indications of Arthur's love
for poor Erin. Hardness was the mark of Curran, and sin had been his
lifelong delight; but for his country he had kept a tenderness and
devotion that softened and elevated his nature at times. Of little use
and less honor to his native land, he felt humbled in this room, whose
books, pictures, and ornaments reve