"He had; I knew Austin very well. He died some eight or ten years ago," said Mr. McKim, now so much interested in my questions that he threw down the letter, and gave his attention wholly to me. "I am very glad to learn this, and I am sorry Mr. Loraine is not at home." "Can I do anything for you?" he asked. "No, sir; thank you; I think not. Mr. Loraine's niece is in the city, and wishes to see him very much," I added. "Why don't she go to his house? His family are at home." "Kate is with some friends, and I think she would rather wait till her uncle returns, as he is coming so soon. I will call again to-morrow." "Mr. Loraine lives in Madison Place;" and he gave me the number, which I wrote down on a paper, and told Mr. McKim where Kate was staying. When I went out of the store I looked again for Tom Thornton. He must have come to the city by this time, and I was rather surprised to find he was not already on my track. I did not see him, but I afterwards found out, to my sorrow, that his eye was upon me from the moment I went into the store of McKim & Loraine. I hastened back to the hotel, and informed Kate that I had found her uncle, but he was not at home. She was so well cared for by Mrs. Macombe that she was in no haste to leave her. After dinner we all took a walk on the Battery and up Broadway, to see the sights. When we returned, at five o'clock, we found a carriage waiting to convey Kate and me to Mr. Loraine's house in Madison Place. CHAPTER XIX. IN WHICH ERNEST STARTS FOR MADISON PLACE WITH KATE. I COULD not exactly understand how Mr. Loraine, being in Baltimore, or on the way to New York, had sent a carriage for his niece. It was possible that Kate's uncle had returned sooner than he had been expected, or that Mr. McKim had seen his partner's family, and they had sent for Kate. It did not occur to me that there was anything wrong; but I desired to see Mr. Loraine, and tell him her story before his niece went to his house. "Who sent you for Miss Loraine?" I asked of the hackman. "How should I know who sint me?" replied the driver, an ill-favored Irishman, and a rough specimen even of New York hackmen, who are not reputed to be saints. "A gintleman gave me this paper, and told me to come here." I took the paper, and read what was written upon it: "Call at the ---- Hotel for Miss Kate Loraine, and drive her to No. -- Madison Place. Bring the young man who is with her also." "Who gave you this?" I asked. "I don't know who he was. It was a gintleman that came over to the hack-stand by the Park." "Was he an old man, or a young man?" "Middling ould--not very ould, either; he wasn't what you'd call a young man," replied the driver. "Was he fifty?" "He might be; and then again he might not be," answered the man.