"It certainly does," said Mr. Felton. "The only clue I have is the fact that he did draw the money, and wrote me the line I told you of"--he opened his pocket-book mechanically as he spoke, glanced at a letter placed within the leaves, replaced the book in his breast-pocket, and went on--"promising further particulars. It is almost incredible that he should be in England, and not have written again. My letters to him, addressed to the Liverpool bank, have not been sent for. He got one when he drew the money." "Yes, I know," said George. They had talked the matter over many times, and never drew nearer a conclusion. It was evident to George, on the present occasion, that the character of his uncle's apprehensions was undergoing a change. At first, he had treated his son's silence as only one additional example of the utter callousness and indifference to which the father was only too well accustomed. George, to whom his cousin was an utter stranger, had accepted his uncle's view of the matter, at first, unquestioned; but he had become unsatisfied and uncertain about it of late, and was anxious, without alarming Mr. Felton, to lead him to take active steps for obtaining information of the whereabouts of his son. "I feel satisfied he left England again, and knows nothing of my movements. He will write out to New York, however; and if he has only done so now, there will be some delay before he knows I am in Europe." "Don't you think," asked George, hesitatingly, "he would send to Liverpool for the letters, if he were in any uncertainty, before writing to New York? I confess I don't like his leaving them unclaimed. None of the reasons which may explain his silence reach to an explanation of that. I don't think you ought to let much more time go over. If you had a likeness of him--" He hesitated very much here, and looked aside at his uncle, who turned sharply towards him, and said: "Well! What! If I had a likeness--" "You might have had it copied, and the photographs distributed to the police; so that, if anything should be wrong--" "Wrong? In what sense, George? Do you begin to fear that anything has happened to him? You never said so at first." "Because I did not think so, uncle: and I am not seriously uneasy now--not at all; but I think a reasonable time has elapsed, and we ought now to make active inquiry. When he turns up, and finds out what trouble and anxiety he has given, he will be more considerate in future." "Ah," said Mr. Felton, with a sigh, "I don't think Arthur is open to any conviction of that kind. What do you think it best to do, now?" "Well, uncle, you see you have been three weeks in Europe, and those three weeks make a considerable addition to the time since you heard from him. If you write by the next mail to New York for a copy of his photograph-- You are sure you have not one with you?" "Quite sure. Since I found I had not one in my desk, I have searched everywhere among my luggage, but I have not one."