“Certainly. It was I who found the child, and through the intervention of a good woman, full of tact and delicacy, learned as much of the little one’s story as could be drawn from a creature of her tender years. I learned, in short, that the little Owlet was an orphan who had been adopted by Miss Fronde, between whom and herself there seemed to have been a strong bond of affection.” “Well, sir,” said the lawyer in the same icy tone. “It was I who wired you of the discovery of the lost child.” “Under a false name, then,” said the lawyer scornfully. “Not exactly, but under my own first name,” said Harcourt patiently. “Well, sir, I answered your telegram in sufficiently clear terms, I think.” “Yes; but—pray pardon me—your answer came in a few hours after my dispatch. Did you really have time to communicate with Miss Fronde on the subject before answering my telegram?” “No. I relied upon my own responsibility as her solicitor, with perfect knowledge of her relations to the adopted child, as well as of all her other business, and I considered my course in the matter conclusive.” “Yes,” said the young man, still very forbearingly, “and that would have settled the question as to what should be done with the forsaken orphan, and I should myself have taken care of her, had not a message come summoning me immediately to the sick bed of my dear mother, to whom I am even now en route, only waiting for the train that will start in less than two hours for West Virginia.” “I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Harcourt is ill,” said the lawyer, softened a little by the sorrow and patience of his young visitor. “Thank you, sir. Under such circumstances I really did not know what to do with the forlorn child, except to bring her along with me.” “And you have really brought her here?” demanded the lawyer in surprise. “I could not do otherwise. The little creature was and is, wild to return to her benefactress. I thought possibly, under the circumstances, that Miss Fronde might reconsider her resolution to have nothing further to do with the child, and reflect that the orphan’s abduction was her great misfortune rather than her fault.” “You are mistaken. Miss Fronde formed no such determination. If you recall the terms of my telegram, you will find that I merely said that Miss Fronde could not interfere in the case of the child. And, in fact, sir, she had no right to do so.” “No right? May I be permitted to ask why she had no right?” Harcourt inquired. The lawyer dismissed the question with a wave of his hand and said: “I am by no means sure, however, that since the little one has been lost, and found again, Miss Fronde may not be willing, and even well pleased, to receive her back again. She was certainly very fond of little Owlet. However, that can be easily ascertained, as Miss Fronde is now in Washington.”