"Never," replied both the Beatons at once. "Who was he? Had he anything
to do with Miss Neale?"

"I don't think she ever saw him," Elsie replied. "Her manuscript merely
says that he was Harold's college friend, and she must search Harold's
papers to find his address. It was evident that she felt her own end
approaching, and thought that Mr. Wayne might do something for Jamie."

Andrew Beaton caught at the idea at once. "We'll find him out!" he
cried. "Mr. Waring was a King's College man. It will be easy enough to
learn something about Arnold Wayne there. But we must find Jamie first
of all."

"Don't you know where Mrs. Penn went when she left Soho Square?"
inquired Elsie.

"Not exactly," Andrew admitted. "Mother, how could we have been so
neglectful? We ought to have insisted on having her address!"

"But she had no address to give us," Mrs. Beaton answered, with a
troubled look on her kind face. "She said she would go to stay with some
friends at Brighton for a month; the sea-air would be good for the boy
and herself. They had both fretted themselves quite ill. After leaving
Brighton she was thinking of settling at Lee, in Kent. Naturally, I
approved of the Brighton plan, as I knew that Jamie needed a change."

Elsie was thoughtful for a moment; then she looked up, with a sudden
hope shining in her eyes. "Perhaps we are worrying ourselves without a
cause," she said. "It may be that they have not left Brighton, and the
child is well and happy there."

"Who can tell?" The words came from Andrew as he rose from his chair and
went to a side-table. "I am going to write to Mrs. Penn through the
papers." His mother and Elsie watched him as he opened a blotting-book
and set about his task at once. There was something firm and
business-like in his way of doing things. In a few minutes the notice
was written, and he read it aloud to them:--"Mrs. Penn, formerly of --
Soho Square, is requested to communicate at once with Andrew Beaton, --
Wardour Street, W."

"That will do," said Mrs. Beaton approvingly.

Elsie, too, rose from her seat. The afternoon was wearing away, and Miss
Saxon would be getting uneasy at her absence.

"You will come again, my dear?" said the old lady, holding her hand in a
lingering clasp.

"I shall be very glad to come," Elsie answered. "It is so long since I
have talked with any one so motherly as you are." As she spoke her lips
quivered. They both knew that the loss of a mother leaves a void