"Why regret the past?" Harrison asked slowly, referring again to the blue foolscap by the fitful light of the fire. "The inquiry has, up to the present, resulted in the elucidation of only one definite fact; nevertheless, Rutter is certainly on the right scent, and as he is now extensively advertising in the principal papers throughout France, I hope to be able ere long to report something more satisfactory." "It will be no satisfaction whatever to me if she is found," observed the young man, grimly. "But it is imperative that the matter should be cleared up," the solicitor protested. "When we have discovered her you will, of course, be at liberty to offer her marriage, or not, just as you please." "It is a most remarkable phase of the affair that the only person acquainted with this mysterious woman was poor Nelly," the young barrister exclaimed at last. "You will remember that in the letter, with its slang of the slums, Liane's name was mentioned. Well, I have written asking her whether she is acquainted with any woman of the same name with which the curious letter is signed, but she has replied saying that neither herself nor her father ever knew any such person, and they had been quite at a loss to know how Nelly should have become acquainted with her. Here is her reply; read for yourself," and from his pocket he took several letters, and selecting one, handed it to the keen-faced, grey-haired man, at the same time striking a vesta and lighting the lamp standing upon the table. "You don't seem to mind other people reading your love-letters," the old solicitor said, laughing and turning towards the light. "When I was young I kept them tied up with pink tape in a box carefully locked." George smiled. "The pink tape was owing to the legal instinct, I suppose," he said. Then he added, with a slight touch of sorrow, "There are not many secrets in Liane's letters." The shrewd old man detected disappointment in his voice, and after glancing at the letter, looked up at him again, saying, "The course of true love is not running smooth, eh? This lady is in Nice, I see." "Yes, Harrison," he answered gravely, leaning against the table with head slightly bent. "We are parted, and I fear that, after all, I have acted foolishly." "You will, no doubt, remember my advice on the day of your father's death." "I do," George answered, huskily. "At that time I fondly believed she loved me, and was prepared to sacrifice everything in order that she should be mine. But now--" "Well?" "Her letters have grown colder, and I have a distinct and painful belief that she loves me no longer, that she has, amid the mad whirl of gaiety on the Riviera, met some man who has the means to provide her with the pleasures to which she has been accustomed, and upon whom she looks with favour. Her letters now are little more than the formal correspondence of a friend. She has grown tired of waiting." "And are you surprised?" Harrison asked.