"I suspect the Francoises." "Why?" "I love the child, and they know it. She will be another weapon in their hands. Besides, if I cannot, or will not reclaim her, there is the reward." Richard Stanhope leaned forward, and slightly lifted his right hand. "Is there any one else who would be benefited by the death or disappearance of the child?" he asked. Leslie started, and the hot blood rushed to her face. "I--I don't understand," she faltered. "Do you know the purport of your husband's will." "Yes." "How does he dispose of his large property?" "One third to me; the rest to little Daisy." "And his brother?" "Alan possesses an independent fortune." "Are there no contingencies?" "In case of my death, all comes to Daisy, Alan becoming her guardian. In case of Daisy's death, Alan and I share equally." "Then by the loss of this child, both you and the young man become richer." "Ah!" she gasped, "I had never thought of _that_!" "Mrs. Warburton, beginning at the moment when you left this house to visit the Francoises, will you tell me all that transpired, up to the time of your escape from their house?" With cheeks flushing and paling, and voice tremulous with the excitement of some new, strange thought, she described to him the scene in the Francoises' house. "So," thought Stanhope, when all was told, "Mr. Alan Warburton's presence at that special moment was strangely opportune. Why was he there? What does he know of the Francoises? The plot thickens, and I would not be in Alan Warburton's shoes for all the Warburton wealth." But, aloud, he only said: "Thanks, Mrs. Warburton. If you are correct in your suspicions, and the Francoises have stolen the child, they will approach you sooner or later. Should they do so, make no terms with them, but communicate with me at once." "By letter?" "No; through the morning papers. Use this form." Taking from his pocket a note-book, he wrote upon a leaf a few words, tore it from the book, and put it into her hand. "That is safer than a letter," he said, rising. "One word more, madam. Tell Alan Warburton to be doubly guarded against Van Vernet. His danger increases at every step. Now we will call Mr. Follingsbee." "One moment, Mr. Stanhope. Alan has employed detectives to search for Daisy, but none of them know what you know. Will _you_ find her for me?" She held out her hands appealingly. The detective looked at her in silence for a moment, then, striding forward, he took the outstretched hands in both his own, and gazing down into her face said, gently: "I will serve you to the extent of my power, dear lady. I will find the little one, if I can." Mr. Follingsbee had passed his hour of waiting in the most comfortable manner possible, fast asleep in a big lounging-chair. Being aroused, he departed with Stanhope, manifesting no curiosity concerning the outcome of the detective's visit. While their footsteps yet lingered on the outer threshold, Winnie French came flying down the stairway.