"I never suspected," he concluded, "that John Curtiss and his wife weren't really my grandparents. They told me my father and mother were dead, and they certainly treated me as a child of their own. They had no other children, and doubtless by the time I came of age to ask questions, regarded me as wholly theirs. Mrs. Curtiss died when I was sixteen, her husband three years later, just as I was ready to enter college; and I found that he'd made me his sole heir, and that I was worth some thirty thousand dollars. I went on to college, as they'd wished me to. And now," he added, "what shall I do? Shall I go to Elizabeth and see Mrs. Lawrence----" It was plain that he could not think of her as his mother. She had never been his mother. He had never known her as such; she had played no part in his childhood. I knew that one of the questions I had asked myself was answered: the mere revelation of kinship had made no difference in his feeling for Marcia Lawrence. He loved her yet; he had that battle still to fight. And she--was it the same with her? What a hideous irony of fate! "Mrs. Lawrence knew nothing of the story," I pointed out. "She may know nothing of it, even yet. She doesn't suspect that her child lived. I think her daughter means that she should never know, if it can be kept from her." "Then she shall never know from me," he said, and took a deep breath. "I suppose that I'd better wait. Marcia can decide what's best to do. I--I don't think I quite realise what it all means," and he passed his hand before his eyes. "The best thing for me is to go to work. That'll give me something else to think about." "That's right," I said. "Thinking about this won't do any good--nothing will." "No," he agreed, his lips bloodless. "I begin to see that--to understand----" The door opened, and the office boy came in. "Telegram, Mr. Lester," he said, and gave it to me. It was: "Our Elizabeth correspondent wires Miss Lawrence home noon to-day. "GODFREY." CHAPTER XXVII The Curtain Lifts For a moment I hesitated. Was it best to tell him? But a glance at his drawn face decided me. "The search is over," I said. "Miss Lawrence is home again," and I handed him the message. He read it at a glance, then started to his feet. "Will you come with me, Mr. Lester?" he asked. "I know I've given you a lot of trouble, but this will be the last, I think." "You haven't given me a bit of trouble," I protested. "I'll be glad to come." "Thank you," he said simply, and held out his hand to Royce. "You think it best to go?" the latter asked. "Best? Oh, I'm not thinking of that! I'm going to her--I've got to see her! I can't wait! I----" He wrung our junior's hand without finishing the sentence; too overwrought, indeed, to finish it--and strode from the room. Mr. Royce held me back for a rapid word of warning. "I'm glad you're going," he said. "He'll need some one. There's no telling what'll happen. Good luck!"