LITTLE GRACIE DEATH ON THE TRAIL. While her mother was being examined in the Coroner's Court, little Gracie Death, glowing with gratitude to Aunt Rob and her family, and solemnly impressed with a sense of the importance of the task she had undertaken, set out on the trail of Dr. Vinsen. She clearly understood that she was serving Dick's friends as well as Dick himself, but it was of Dick she thought most, and it was him she most ardently wished to serve. The attachments formed by children, and the ideals they create, are often stronger and more binding than those of men and women; and no stronger attachment was ever formed by a child, and no more lofty and beautiful an ideal created than those which reigned in Gracie's soul for Dick. Her heart throbbed with pride to think that the man she loved best in the world next to her father had taken her into partnership, and had entrusted her with a mission. There was no indication of this on her quiet, sallow face, or in her black eyes. When passion is demonstrative it is far less enduring than when it lies hidden in the soul. Gracie intended to fulfil the mission entrusted to her. Dick had said that between them they would make Scotland Yard sit up. Well, they would. Inspired not only by the kiss which he had given her for good luck, but by an absolute reliance upon herself, Gracie pondered upon her course of action. She must go somewhere. Where? She had no idea in which direction Dr. Vinsen lived, and she was not the kind of girl to flounder about without something to guide her. Once she set eyes upon him she would stick to him like a limpet to a rock till her purpose was achieved. She turned her face homeward; he might by chance be there. He was there. She heard his voice as she was ascending the stairs, and she paused to listen. He was asking the children for their mother, and a chorus of voices informed him that Mrs. Death had gone to the "inkage," which was the nearest approach the little ones could make to "inquest." Gracie thought it was a curious question for him to ask, because she had heard him and her mother speaking of Mrs. Death being a witness in the inquiry. She crept up a step to hear what further he had to say. "And Gracie," he said, "where's our little Gracie--our lit-tle Gra-cie? Has she gone to the 'inkage' too?" Who could doubt that it was out of mere playfulness he gave their pronunciation of the word? "Oh, no," answered the most forward of the children, "she can't get in, she can't. And mother didn't want her to."