"For one especially, a lady driven into misfortune, and who had no friend but a stern and honourable gentleman who would only lift her from the depths into which she had fallen on the condition that she submitted to a cruel sacrifice. His demand was that she should give her infant into the care of strangers, and that only in the event of his death should she be free to seek to know its fate. Is that the incident, Dr. Spenlove?" "It is. I see you know all, and with Mr. Moss's consent I will speak openly." Mr. Moss looked at Aaron, who nodded, and Dr. Spenlove continued. "There is no need to recall all the particulars of that bitter night when you so kindly assisted me in the search for the unhappy mother and her child." "None at all," said Mr. Moss; "they are very vivid in my memory." "And in mine. Your kindness has not been forgotten either by me or by the lady whose life, and whose child's life, were saved by you. He shakes his head in deprecation, Mr. Cohen, but what I say is true. Had he not, out of the kindness of his heart, accompanied me, these two hapless human beings would have perished in the snow. I had a motive to serve; he had none. On the night we parted in Portsmouth, Mr. Moss, you were on the point of seeking a home for the poor babe, for whom"--he turned to Aaron--"a liberal provision was made." "I am acquainted with every detail of the strange story," said Aaron. "I was residing in Gosport at the time." Dr. Spenlove gave him a startled look. "It was in Gosport he hoped to find this home, with a friend of whom he spoke in the highest terms. The commission entrusted to me by Mr. Gordon--I perceive you are familiar with the name--ended on that night, and what remained to be done was in the hands of Mr. Moss and Mr. Gordon's lawyers. The following morning I came to London, where I have resided ever since. From that day until two or three weeks ago Mr. Moss and I have not met. It was here in your house, Mr. Cohen, that, seeing him for the first time after so long an interval, I made inquiries concerning the infant entrusted to him. He informed me that she died very shortly, as I understood, after she entered her new home. I was not surprised to hear it; the exposure on that bitter night was sufficiently severe to kill a child much older. In order that my visit to Mr. Moss to-night may be properly understood I will relate in a few words the subsequent history of the mother. She married Mr. Gordon, and accompanied him to Australia, where she has resided for twenty years. She has had no children by him, and is now a widow, and very wealthy. Unknown to Mr. Gordon she, in her last interview with me, entrusted to me a small iron casket--it was one I gave her, and I can identify it--in which she deposited some articles, of the nature of which I was ignorant. She entreated me to take steps that this box should be delivered to the people who received her child into their home, and to obtain from