I wrote my letter at once in Turk's shop. The substance of it was that I enclosed a copy of an account of the arrest and conviction of a criminal well known in Hertford many years ago; that this criminal had on his person peculiar marks which were almost certain to be transmitted to his children; that the history of this criminal was known only to me and Turk West; that the secret of it would be faithfully kept if the person to whom my letter was addressed would immediately cease to honour with his attentions any of the lady friends of the writer; and that if this condition were not accepted and carried out in its full letter and spirit, means would be immediately adopted for making public the Remarkable Discovery, and the subsequent history of the forger and thief. I did not mention any names, but Turk West said that Mr. Glover would understand my meaning. I left the letter with its enclosure at Mr. Glover's house, and received no answer. Three days afterwards Turk came to tell me that Mr. Glover had left on a tour to Germany. 'I have other news for you as well,' he said; the theatre in which Jessie was to have appeared is let to a French Company for three months.' I asked Turk no questions, remembering what he had said as to his being on his parole, but I worked that day with a heart less sad than it had been for many a long month past. CHAPTER XLVIII. JOSEY WEST LAMENTS HER CROOKED LEGS. Exactly three weeks had passed since Mr. Glover's departure, and I here take the opportunity of mentioning that, although I have seen the gentleman subsequently on two or three occasions, we have avoided each other by mutual consent--a state of things with which I am perfectly contented. The connection between him and Turk West is also completely severed, so that he has, as it were, dropped out of our lives. During the above-mentioned interval, nothing of importance transpired; my mind was busy with possibilities, but I saw no clear way of playing an active part in their development. My mother during this time, and especially during the past week, had been out a great deal. I guessed that she was still searching for uncle Bryan, and I should have been happy to learn from her lips that she had been successful in finding him. Within a few days of the time of which I am writing, I entertained a suspicion that she had found a clue, for when she came home her eyes were bright, and there was an expression of great happiness in her face; but I said nothing to her. I knew that I should soon hear good news if she had any to tell. The special direction of my thoughts may easily be understood by an observation I made to my mother one afternoon at the end of the three weeks. 'Mother,' I said, 'I think you ought to go and see Jessie.' She looked up with glad eyes.