“Yes, twice, though there was a good while between; but, as it chanced, I was away both times, and of course the boy I hired to help me and take my place at such times—the same one that’s there now—didn’t know him. The last visit he made he gave up his keys.” “How long ago was that?” “That must have been as many as fifteen years ago, I should say; I can’t just remember, though,” replied Mr. Brown. Geoffrey reasoned that probably his father had visited the place while on his way back from California, after he had been to make inquiries regarding his own mysterious disappearance, and having despaired of ever gaining any knowledge of him through Lock Box 43, had surrendered his keys. “Did he ever reside here in Santa Fe?” he asked. “I don’t think he did, sir—he always looked as if he came from a distance, and he didn’t come regular, either. I used to think he was up among the mines in the mountains.” “Did he receive many letters through this office?” “At first he did, but not more’n three or four the last year or two, and I was to let them lay until they were come for. When he come last he said he was goin’ to leave this country altogether.” “It is very strange,” mused Geoffrey, as he sat turning over that little piece of gold and enamel. “If it could but speak,” he thought, “all my trouble and search would be over.” “Will you sell me this little relic?” he asked, at last, turning to the ex-postmaster. “Bless you! no, sir. I shouldn’t think of selling it to anybody; but if you’re that man’s son, as you say, it’s yours by right, and you can have it and welcome.” Geoffrey thanked the honest old gentleman heartily for it and his kindness in answering his inquiries, and then arose to take his leave. He picked up one of the hats that Mrs. Brown had just completed, asking if she could make him one and have it ready by the time he got around to Santa Fe again. She said she would, and at his request named the price. Geoffrey dropped a golden coin into her hand, remarking, with a smile, that she could give him the change when he came for the hat, or if he didn’t come by the end of six weeks she would be entitled to the whole of it. He took this way to make these good people a little present without wounding their feelings, for he had no intention of ever returning to Santa Fe. He was very much depressed by his failure to obtain any definite information regarding his father, and he found it hard to be reconciled to the fact that the ex-postmaster could not remember the name which it was so important he should learn. He attached very little significance to the finding of the broken cross, for it proved nothing; still he put it carefully away, resolving to keep it as a curious relic. But it was destined, insignificant as it seemed, to play an important part in the chain of evidence that was eventually to prove his identity.