"I've been waiting for you, Dick. Have you had breakfast?" "Wouldn't stop for it, Aunt Rob," he answered, "I thought you would give me a bite." "It's ready laid for you, my dear. I had a letter from Florence this morning, and one has come for you." "From Florence?" he cried. "No, it's not her writing." She gave him both letters, and said that Uncle Rob had gone out early in the morning to seek for her. "We haven't had a wink of sleep all night," she said. He read Florence's letter first. It was to the same effect as her letters of yesterday. She was quite well and safe, and begged them not to be anxious about her. Her dear love to darling mother and father, and to Dick. She would write twice every day, and hoped with all her heart that everything would soon be all right. "It is a happiness to know that she is safe and well," said Dick. "We must have patience, Aunt Rob." "But what does she mean by her 'duty,' Dick?" "We shall hear that from her own lips by-and-by," he replied. "And isn't it strange," said the anxious mother, "that she doesn't say a word of Mr. Reginald?" "Yes, it _is_ strange." But in his heart he did not think so. He believed he knew why the name was not mentioned. "What is your letter about, Dick?" He opened it, read it hurriedly, and did not betray the agitation it caused him. "A private letter, aunt, from an old friend. Has Uncle Rob got another day's leave of absence from the office?" "No; he must go back to his duty to-night. He wanted to see you badly, but he couldn't stop at home, he's that restless. I wish you'd have a talk with him." "I'll manage it. If I don't catch him here, I'll drop in at the station." He was itching to read his letter more carefully, but he would not arouse her suspicions by running away too suddenly, so he remained with her a few minutes longer, and then, saying he would see her again in the course of the day, took his leave. "Are you going anywhere particular, Dick?" she asked, accompanying him to the door. "I am going to look for Florence," he replied, kissing her. "It will be hard if we don't soon get some good news. Keep up your heart, dear aunt." He did not take the letter from his pocket till he was in a quiet street. "My Dear Dick" (it ran), "The reason that I have had the address on the envelope written in a strange hand is that I do not want mother to know I am writing to you. You must not tell her. I feel sure you will get my letter this morning, because you will have heard of my going away, and will go to mother's to get some news of me. I need your help, dear Dick. I am at 16, Park Street, Islington, first floor. Come at 2 o'clock; I shall be looking out for you; and let it be a secret between us. I know how true and faithful you are, and I have no fear that you will betray me. With constant love, my dear Dick, "Your affectionate Cousin, "Florence." CHAPTER XXII.