"Then why are these mysterious papers in existence? No! believe me, they have a story to tell. I am better disposed towards you because of those papers, as who knows to what they may lead. Mr. Spruce is right about a mystery interesting me, and I congratulate Mr. Spruce. He ought to be in the diplomatic service. His knowledge of human nature does him credit." Evidently both Madame and the Cherub were bent upon building a castle in the air, as Hench could not think that the papers in question were likely to make him a rich man. His father had never been rich, and knowing the sybaritism of his deceased parent, the young man was pretty certain that if there had been any money about, the elder Hench would have obtained it to waste. "You are both wrong," he said gloomily. "There is not likely to be a fortune waiting for me when I read those papers. My name is a commonplace one, and I have every reason to believe that my family is commonplace also. My father never gave me any information about his parents. All I know is that his name was Owain Hench, as mine is, and that he once or twice remarked that his youth had been passed in some Welsh place, called Rhaiadr!" The effect of this last word on Madame was astonishing. She turned quite pale with sudden emotion, her large dark eyes blazed into vivid life and she clapped her hands loudly. "Rhaiadr! Owain of Rhaiadr! The word means water tumbling over a rock--a waterfall. Ah, yes, and so they call a torrent in the barbarous country of Wales." Hench stared at her, not understanding this outburst, but Spruce, much more alive to what was meant, laughed and nodded. "We have hit upon the magic word, it seems," he observed, all on the alert for knowledge. "Tell us who was the owner of the eyes which were like those of Hench's, Madame?" "Your father had such eyes," said Madame, turning to the astonished man. "My father!"--Hench started to his feet--"you have never met my father. Why, he died about five years ago." Madame nodded complacently and signed that he should seat himself again. "Ah, is that so? He is dead, then. Oh, but I did meet him, Mr. Hench. Some twenty years back--it was in Buda Pesth. I remember it all"--she pressed her jewelled fingers to her forehead--"it all comes back to me." "Tell us about it, then," suggested Spruce eagerly. "Bah!" said Hench rather rudely, "it's all imagination." "Indeed it is not," protested Madame, gesticulating. "If it were so, how would I know that Rhaiadr meant a waterfall and was in Wales, a country I know nothing about? Owain of Rhaiadr!--that is what your father called himself." "Owain is my Christian name, and was my father's before me. But we don't live in the Middle Ages, when a man was known by his first name being connected with a town, or village, or county, or country. Owain Hench of Rhaiadr, if you like, Madame."