“What does he mean?” Oran Delaney asked her. She shook her head, and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Rodney. “Yes, I remember Cheap Jane,” she said. “But what has that to do with Miss Rodney and my master?” “If you will tell Mr. Delaney all that you know about Cheap Jane, I will show you the connection,” he replied. Mrs. Griffin was heartily ashamed at the thought of her adventure with Cheap Jane being exposed; but she saw that it was too late to attempt concealment. She made a virtue of necessity, and related the story to Mr. Delaney, frankly apologizing for her fault. “I know I did wrong,” she said, turning to Mr. Rodney; “but still I cannot see what harm was done by my imprudence. The old creature only stayed a little while.” “That is where you are mistaken,” said Mr. Rodney. “Cheap Jane spent the night in Delaney House.” “Spent the night?” she echoed, staring at him stupidly: “Yes,” he replied. “But how could that be?” exclaimed Oran Delaney, looking up from his untasted toast. He was too much excited to eat. “It happened in this way,” said the lawyer. “When Mrs. Griffin went to answer your bell, the peddler slipped into a deserted room, and hid herself and her basket of potions in an unused closet. She thus remained in Delaney House all night.” Mrs. Griffin wrung her plump hands, and cried out, dejectedly, “The wretch!” But Oran Delaney did not utter one word; he only gazed inquiringly into the face of the lawyer. “She remained at Delaney House all night,” repeated Mr. Rodney. “After the inmates were locked in unsuspecting slumber, the hidden peddler came forth and prowled through the house. You were sick that night, Mr. Delaney. In your fever and unrest you talked to the walls in your room--you revealed the secret of Aline’s stay in your house.” “Great Heaven!” he cried. “It is strange, but true,” said the lawyer. “And your uninvited guest, the peddler, who had stolen into your house like a thief by night, heard all. It was from him I learned all I knew--namely, that Aline had been a wounded prisoner in Delaney House.” “You said ‘from him’--yet I understood that the peddler was a woman,” exclaimed Oran Delaney, quickly. “A man in disguise,” explained the lawyer. “Then it was no common person--the plan was a deep-laid one,” said Oran Delaney, with an inquiring look into the other’s face. Mr. Rodney shook his head. “No, it was not I,” he said. “It was a detective whom I employed last summer to trace Aline. He failed at first, but when she came back to us and refused to reveal the secret of her absence, he set himself to work to ferret out the truth.” “And succeeded,” said Oran Delaney, with bitter sadness. “And where is your clever detective now?” “He is again on the track of my missing daughter. I have for the second time employed him to find her.” “He shall be richly rewarded if he succeeds,” exclaimed Oran Delaney, earnestly. He lay silent for a moment, and then added gravely and thoughtfully: