"I wonder--" he began, and then checked himself, bowed, and turned toward the door. "Had this gentleman a middle name?" he asked, with his hand upon the latch. "Yes; it was R., I believe; Thomas R. Uliman," replied the Australian. Sanford bowed again and went out quietly. Then Mr. Ainsworth turned toward the Chief. "You have a system?" he queried. "Yes; a very simple and effectual one. We keep the census reports, the directories, and a death record. When these fail, we have other resources; but we usually get at least a clue from these books. This part of the work is simple enough. By to-morrow I think we can give you some information about Thomas Uliman." There was a moment's silence, then Walter Parks leaned forward: "Have you anything to tell me concerning my two detectives?" he asked. "Stanhope and Vernet? Well, not much; but I expect a report from Vernet at any moment. We will have that also to-morrow." CHAPTER LIV. A CHIEF'S PERPLEXITIES. On Wednesday, the day following that which witnessed the arrival of Walter Parks and John Ainsworth, Mr. Follingsbee, seated at a late breakfast, perused a letter, which, judging from the manner of its reception, must have contained something unusual and interesting. He read it, re-read it, and read it again. Then pushing back his chair, and leaving his repast half finished, he hurried from the breakfast-room, and up stairs, straight to that cosey room which, for many days, had been occupied by a guest never visible below. This guest had also recently turned away from a dainty breakfast, the fragments of which yet remained upon the small table at his elbow, and he was now perusing the morning paper with the bored look of a man who reads only to kill time. He glanced up as the lawyer entered, but did not rise. "Well," began his visitor, "at last I have something to wake you up with: orders to march." He held in his hand the open letter, and standing directly in front of the other, read out its contents with the tone and manner of a man pronouncing his own vindication after a long-suffering silence: DEAR SIR: At last you may release your voluntary prisoner. It is best that he return at once to W---- place. Let him go quietly and without fear. By afternoon there may be other arrivals, whom he will be glad to welcome. For yourself, be at the Chief's office this day at 4. P.M. STANHOPE. The reader paused and looked triumphantly at his audience of one. "So," commented this audience, "his name is Stanhope." Mr. Follingsbee started and then laughed. "I don't think he cared to keep his identity from you longer," he said, "otherwise he would not have signed his name. I think this means that the play is about to end"--tapping the letter lightly with his two fingers. "You have heard of Dick Stanhope, I take it?"