“I haven’t the faintest idea. He said his name was Wrench. Do you remember if your mother ever knew a person of that name?” “Not that I ever heard of. What did you tell him?” “I gave him her address.” * * * * * * * Mrs. Maitland resided with her niece, whose house was within half a mile of Tom Gatliffe’s residence. While the foregoing conversation had been taking place the worthy old lady was having a _tête-à-tête_ with the sagacious detective, who had explained to her his reason for waiting upon her. Mrs. Maitland narrated to him all the circumstances connected with the young girl Aveline, whom she had adopted and brought up as her daughter. She explained to him how she had fallen into her hands when little more than an infant; explained to him also the accident on the line, how the mother and daughter were brought into the infirmary at Derby, with the death of the former, together with all those particulars which the reader has read in an earlier portion of this work. Mr. Wrenoh was charmed――he was perfectly delighted with the successful nature of his visit, and felt perfectly assured that he was on the right scent. “And the trinkets――the articles of jewellery, madame,” said he, “are you still in possession of them?” “Oh, yes. Nothing would have induced me to part with them, except to those who require them for the purpose of identification.” “Quite right, madam. I presume you will have no objection to intrust them to my care for a few days? They are quite safe in my hands. It will be needful for Lord Ethalwood to examine them.” “Cannot you do so? I will fetch them at once.” The old lady went upstairs, unlocked an iron safe in which the trinkets were deposited, and returned with them into the parlour. She placed them before the detective, who examined each article carefully. “Well, what do you make of them?” inquired his companion. “There can be no doubt about the matter,” said he. “One of the rings bears the motto and crest of the Ethalwoods; and, as far as I can judge at present, this portrait bears a close resemblance to Lord Ethalwood’s daughter.” “Then my little protégée, my darling child, is――――” “The grand-daughter of a nobleman.” Mrs. Maitland’s breath was almost taken away at this announcement. “Wonderful――more than wonderful!” she ejaculated. “And is it possible that she has been left uncared for and unacknowledged all these years?” Mr. Wrench shrugged his shoulders. “It would appear so,” he said, “but there are reasons for this my dear madam, very strong reasons. I suppose if I give you a receipt for these articles you will permit me to take them to Broxbridge Hall. I pledge you my word of honour, that, come what may, they shall be returned to you in the course of a few days.” “Oh, indeed, I cannot do that.” “I swear they shall be returned in a week.” “I don’t like to part with them. If they should be lost.” “They will not be lost. I will answer for that.”