No articles of clothing were in sight to enlighten him as to the sex of the tenant of this third-floor back. There was a bed in decent order, and he laid little Fanny upon it. Having done this, he noticed that food was on the table--the remains of a loaf cut in slices, with a scraping of butter on them, a small quantity of tea screwed up in paper, and a saucer with about an ounce of brown sugar in it. "Not exactly a Rothschild," mused our Reporter, "but quite as happy perhaps." For our Reporter has his own views of things, and contends that more happiness is to be found among the poor than among the rich. Continuing his investigations, our Reporter was not long before he made an important discovery. Exactly in front of the slice of bread and butter on the table was a chair, upon which the person who appeared to be invited to the frugal supper would naturally sit, and exactly behind the bread and butter was a piece of paper, set up on end, upon which was written: "Dear little Fanny. Good-bye. If ever I am rich I will try and find you. Look on the mantelshelf." There was a peculiarity in the writing. The letters forming the name "Fanny" were traced in large capital letters, such as a child who could not read fine writing might be able to spell; the rest was written in small hand. Our reporter argued the matter logically thus: The little girl asleep on the bed could not read, but understood the large letters in which her name was written. The supper on the table was set out for her. Preparing to partake of it, her eyes would fall on the paper, and she would see her name upon it. Curiosity to know what else was written would impel her to seek a lodger in the house--perhaps the landlady--who would read the message aloud to her, and would look on the mantelshelf. Why should not our Reporter himself read the message to little Fanny, and why should he not look on the mantelshelf? He did the latter without further cogitation. Upon the mantelshelf he found two unsealed envelopes, with writing on them. Each contained money. One was addressed "For Fanny." It contained a shilling. On the other was written: "Mrs. Rogers, landlady. If a gentleman engaged upon a newspaper calls to see Blanche and a friend whom she met in Leicester Square to-day, please give him the enclosed. Blanche is not coming back. Her rent is paid up to next Saturday. Good-bye." He had not, then, entered the wrong apartment. This room had been occupied by Antony Cowlrick's fair friend, and the enclosure was for our Reporter. He took it out; it was a sealed letter. He opened it, and read, as a sovereign fell to the floor:--