He was informed by its present occupant that the former tenant had left; she went to live with her daughter and son-in-law at Rotheram, soon after their union. Mr. Wrench hastened thither. He was informed that they had all left the town, and were residing somewhere in London. The detective was not to be baffled. He waited on Tom Gatliffe’s former employer, and one of the partners informed him that their late foreman was managing a business in the Euston-road. He put up at one of the leading hotels in Sheffield, having determined upon proceeding to the metropolis on the following day. CHAPTER XXXI. THE HOME OF THE WORKING MAN――THE ARRIVAL OF A STRANGER. Since his marriage with Aveline Maitland the reader has heard but little of Tom Gatliffe. The young engineer was the best and most loving of husbands; he worked steadily at his business, and in every respect was persevering in his endeavours to improve his position; but trade at the works where he was employed was not nearly so flourishing as it had been prior to his marriage. He, in common with his fellow-workmen, suffered by the depression. After remaining two years at Rotheram he accepted an offer to take the management of some works in London. He had another reason for doing this. His young wife had grown tired of Sheffield, Rotheram, and their surroundings, and yearned to be a denizen of the great city about which she had heard so much, but of which she had seen so little. Aveline Gatliffe showed symptoms of discontent――she wanted some change of scene. Her husband took a charming house at Wood-green, which he furnished, not grandly, perhaps, but with every comfort which persons in their station of life could desire. Here he, his wife, and their child――a beautiful little boy of about three years old――were located. Let us pay a visit to the home of the British workman. At the door of the habitation stands a young and beautiful woman. She is barely two and twenty, but does not look even as old as that; her hair of shining brown looks like gold in the sunshine; her eyes are of violet blue; her dress is quite plain, but the homely material only showed the grace and beauty of her figure to greater advantage. Such are the most noticeable features of Aveline Gatliffe. One might have wondered how she――living in a cottage, the wife of a man who worked hard for his daily bread――came by this dainty beauty, this delicate loveliness which would have been fit dowry for a duchess. The young wife’s gaze was directed down the road which led to the station; the rays of the setting sun cast long shadows across this from the trees which skirted its sides. Presently her countenance was irradiated with a smile. She heard the sounds of approaching footsteps, she hastened onwards, and in a few minutes she saw her husband in the distance. “Ah, dearest, you’ve been waiting and watching for me. Is it not so?” cried Tom Gatliffe.