“You are not a resident of New York?” “No. I am an Englishwoman. My home is Birmingham. The last five years I have searched the world over with no success, till, by accident, I found the child’s father here in New York to-day.” “He knows you are here?” “Yes,” reluctantly. “Is a reconciliation with him impossible?” “It is--now.” Nick began to fear that he understood the meaning of that last word, “now.” “You say ‘now.’ Were you willing to be reconciled until recently?” “Yes; I loved him dearly--never ceased to love him in spite of the fact that he robbed me of my child, for I know he was cruelly deceived about me, and had I been guilty of all which he had cause to believe me guilty of, I would have deserved to lose him, and my child, too.” “Why do you say that a reconciliation now is impossible?” “I cannot tell you that.” “Is the cause on your side or his?” “On his.” Nick concluded he would now force the situation. “You say you do not know how your little girl looks now?” “Yes, sir. Remember, I have not seen her for five years.” “Then I’ll let you see what she looks like.” As Nick spoke he took Redway’s watch from his pocket, opened the back of the case, and presented to the astonished young woman the portrait of the sweet face set therein. At first she could only gaze at it in utter stupefaction. Then, realizing what it meant, she gave a great cry, pressed the portrait to her lips again and again, and ended all by--woman-like--fainting. Nick caught her just in time to save the watch from slipping from her grasp. His experience with fainting women was large and varied. The means of resuscitation were near at hand, and he soon had his fair visitor back to consciousness. Her first question was: “Where did you get it?” “The watch?” “Yes, yes!” “Indirectly from its owner.” “From--from----” “From Victor Redway. He is your husband, and the father of the missing child.” The woman bent her head in silent assent. “Is Victor Redway his real name?” “Part of it. The full name is Victor Redway Lock.” “Oh, yes--your married name. What is the little girl’s name.” “Estelle Langdon Lock.” It was one of those periods in Nick Carter’s life when sudden surprise nearly struck him dumb. What did it mean? This woman’s little girl and the concealed child of Redway bearing the name of the girl who had so mysteriously met her death that afternoon. As soon as Nick had time to pull his wits together, he inquired: “After whom was the child named?” “After my aunt--my mother’s only sister.” “Where is she now?” “She has been dead some six years. She died broken-hearted. Her life and mine were most wretchedly alike.” “How so?” “Her husband deserted her, taking their only child, a girl, away with him.” “Where did they go?” “I don’t know. They disappeared, were never heard of again, and I suppose both are dead.” “Why did the girl go with the father and desert the mother?”