"Besides," I added, "I've a feeling that Miss Lawrence will herself decide to meet it squarely. She'll realise that Curtiss has a right to know the story. I believe that she'll soon come home again, ready to face him and tell him everything. She'll see that it's cowardly to stay away. Then there's her mother--she'll think of her--of her misery and loneliness. She won't leave her to live by herself in that great, gloomy house. We're safe in leaving the future in her hands." But in the days that followed, I came to doubt more and more whether this policy was the best one. Had I not been thinking too much of Miss Lawrence, and too little of our client? Perhaps if he knew the secret, he would no longer wish to pursue her; he might prefer to wait, to give time opportunity to heal the first rawness of the wound. Indeed, it was conceivable that love might change to loathing. In that case, it were better to have the crisis over with at once; to apply the knife before the sore had a chance to harden or grow deeper. Such heroic action might effect a cure. But I kept these doubts to myself; there was no use disturbing our junior with them. I could see how he was suffering on his friend's behalf. I could guess his fear that some dreadful tragedy would mark the end. The days passed, and we heard no more from Curtiss, not a word to tell us how the search had progressed. Godfrey came in to see me once or twice, but he had nothing new to tell; and of course I had nothing to tell him. At last, he expressed the opinion that we should never solve the mystery; and as the public had forgotten it long since, he decided to waste no more time upon it. Another visitor I had one afternoon, when Dr. Schuyler's card was brought in to me. I ordered him shown in at once, and as I shook hands with him, I noted that he seemed greyer and older than when I had seen him last. "Yes," he said, with a smile, interpreting my glance; "it's this trouble which has been weighing upon me. I've tried to shake it off, but I can't." "Sit down," I said. "I'm glad to see you. And I wouldn't allow the affair to worry me, if I were you." "That's easy enough to say," he retorted, with a little shake of the head. "But remember, Mr. Lester, Mrs. Lawrence and her daughter were two of my dearest friends. And this tragedy has wrecked their lives. Is there any news?" "None at all, except that Curtiss missed the _Umbria_ at Liverpool, and has not been able to find Miss Lawrence." "Perhaps that was best." "I'm inclined to think so myself," I agreed. "There's one thing, though," he added suddenly. "Curtiss has no reason to be ashamed of his birth." I looked at him with quick interest. "Then you've discovered----"