When he arrived at his magnificent bachelor apartments he let himself in with a latch-key. His colored valet was busy in one of the rooms packing his master's clothing into two traveling bags. "Well, Dave," said the captain, gayly, "we will have a fine trip South, I fancy; but don't hurry with that packing. Let it go for a day. I've decided not to start as soon as I intended." "All right, sah; I'll drop it right quick, sah," said the negro. "Yere's a letter, sah, dat was brung 'bout an hour ago. I dun tole de boy dat you would anser it at your leesyur, sah." Captain Paul Deering laughed at his servant's language. Dave always used big words and the most extravagant manners when he came in contact with other people's servants. "By Jove!" exclaimed the captain, as he opened the letter. "It's from my lawyer, Dave, telling me that my sister has been found. She is living here in the city, and is a widow with one daughter." "Yo' doan' say so, sah!" Dave was standing with his mouth wide open to indicate his interest in the news. He had been with the captain so long that he was very deep in his confidences. "Yes, she's here in town, and has been for years, and to think I've been here, too, and didn't know it! You see, Dave, I ran away from home when she was only a young girl. When the home was broken up I lost track of her completely. Now there's a snug little fortune waiting for her that she should have had five years ago, but perhaps it's just as well it's been accumulating interest all the time." "An' yourn has bin a losin' interes'," replied the negro, grinning. "I neber see money slip troo' a man's fingers so fas' as it do troo' yourn, capting, dat's a fac'." "Oh, I get the worth of it as I go along, Dave," laughed the captain, "but I suppose I've got to go out again now and call on my new-found sister." He glanced at the address which the lawyer had given him. "Pshaw! That's too bad," he said, impatiently. "If I had only known this two hours sooner! Why, I've just come from that very locality, and it's way up in Harlem." As he reached for his hat there was a sharp ring at his door-bell. "Dat's Dr. Graham, sah; I knows dat ring ob his," said the valet quickly. "Dat mean, sah, you doan' call on no sister dis ebenin'." CHAPTER IX. THE PLEA OF MISS JENNINGS. When Faith Marvin entered her mother's four-room flat on the top floor of a dingy brick building she was almost out of breath from indignation and rapid walking. She tried to calm herself a little before her mother saw her, for Mrs. Marvin was on the verge of nervous prostration. When Faith looked into the little parlor she saw what she dreaded most, her mother lying on the sofa suffering from a terrible headache. "I must say absolutely nothing," whispered Faith to herself; "but what if that fellow should follow me home! Oh, it would be terrible! Terrible! I am sure it would kill her!"