He produced the shoes and held them before her. The woman sank on the sofa behind her, terrified, but unable to take her eyes from Hewitt’s. “Come, Mrs. Isitt,” he said, “you have been recognised. Here is my card. I am commissioned by the parents of the child to find who removed him, and I think I have succeeded.” She took the card and glanced at it dazedly; then she sank with a groaning sob with her face on the head of the sofa, and as she did so Hewitt could see a scar on the side of her neck peeping above her high collar. [Illustration: “SHE SANK WITH A GROANING SOB WITH HER FACE ON THE HEAD OF THE SOFA.”] “Oh, my God!” the woman moaned. “Then it has come to this. He will die! he will die!” The woman’s anguish was piteous to see. Hewitt had gained his point, and was willing to spare her. He placed his hand on her heaving shoulder and begged her not to distress herself. “The matter is rather difficult to understand, Mrs. Isitt,” he said. “If you will compose yourself, perhaps you can explain. I can assure you that there is no desire to be vindictive. I’m afraid my manner upset you. Pray reassure yourself. May I sit down?” Nobody could by his manner more easily restore confidence and trust than Hewitt when it pleased him. Mrs. Isitt lifted her head and gazed at him once more with a troubled though quieter expression. “I think you wrote Mrs. Seton an anonymous letter,” Hewitt said, producing the first of those which Mrs. Seton had brought him. “It was kind of you to reassure the poor woman.” “Oh, tell me,” Mrs. Isitt asked, “was she much upset at missing the little boy? Did it make her ill?” “She was upset, of course; but perhaps the joy of recovering him compensated for all.” “Yes; I took him back as soon as I possibly could, really I did, Mr. Hewitt. And, oh! I was so tempted! My life has been so unhappy! If you only knew!” She buried her face in her hands. “Will you tell me?” Hewitt suggested gently. “You see, whatever happens, an explanation of some sort is the first thing.”