“But you will give your consent. Let me prevail upon you to do so,” observed the good old vicar. “Some effort must be made to find out whether your daughter is alive or dead――that is the first thing to be done.” “We have not the faintest clue. Five and twenty years have passed over. You seem to forget that.” “No, indeed, I do not. I have thought over this matter more often than you can possibly imagine, for I must tell you it is a subject which has troubled me much for years past. I have abstained from breaking it from feelings of delicacy, as I felt that I had no right to interfere between father and child; but it has occupied my mind very much, nevertheless, and it has, moreover, caused me the deepest anxiety.” “Pray say no more. Accept my best thanks for your kindness and consideration. I will think the subject over, and then determine upon my course of action.” “No time like the present.” “You are very persistent,” observed the earl, with a smile――it was the first that irradiated his features for many a day. His companion looked upon it as a good omen. “I have one or two calls to make at the other end of the village, and, upon my return, will call in again,” said the vicar. “Think over what I have said. In less than an hour I will see you again.” “Good. I shall look for you, then, at the expiration of that time.” The rumbling of the wheels of the vicar’s chariot were heard on the hard dry road, and Lord Ethalwood was alone once more. He did think the matter over after the departure of Canon Lenthal, and his heart softened. “He is right――oh, he is quite right! I am childless――have no kith or kin that I know of. I must and will take active measures, and see if she be still alive.” He sat down at the table, and buried his face in his hands. The hour sped by, and the vicar returned, agreeable to his promise. “I have taken your advice, and have thought the matter seriously over,” said Lord Ethalwood. “And what is your ultimatum?” inquired Canon Lenthal. “To institute inquiries without further delay.” The two friends sat down once more, and began to discuss details in a serious and business-like manner. To the great surprise of the vicar, he learnt from Lord Ethalwood that he had never heard a word of his daughter after she left Broxbridge. “Most singular,” murmured the good pastor. “But did she never write to you?” “I believe so, but all the letters have been destroyed.” “Where were they addressed from?” “I don’t know. I never saw them. I gave orders to my butler to destroy them. Oh, we shall never be able to learn anything of that, I am convinced. Nevertheless I will endeavour to do so.” “How will you proceed?” [Sidenote: No. 14.] [Illustration: CHARLES PEACE AND THE DETECTIVE OFFICER.] “Place the matter in the hands of my lawyer――he will know how to act.”