"I do not remember. Certainly I have heard it, but it is many years ago, and English names are so difficult to keep in mind." "But Monsieur le Comte—had he not some souvenir of his mother?—some portrait, or heirloom, or family papers?" "I never saw any. But I have upstairs a box in which I treasure many little things that were his: perhaps you would like to see it?" "Certainly. It would be as well." Madame de Vaudrey sent a servant to a private room in the turret, whence he returned presently with a leather-covered brass-studded box. After some search the key was discovered, the box was opened, and the comtesse took out, one after another, various memorials of her dead husband. Among them was a bundle of papers tied up with ribbon; this she laid with trembling hands before her friend. "You permit me, Madame?" he said. She nodded through her tears. Grootz untied the ribbon, and unfolded the topmost paper. A cursory glance showed that it threw no light on the subject all had at heart. Several other papers were examined with a like result; then, nearly at the bottom of the bundle, Grootz came upon a smaller packet separately tied. The outer wrapper bore, in a faded, delicate handwriting, the words: "Dernières letters de la famille de feu ma chère femme". Harry got up and leant towards him in some excitement. "Wait, my son," said Grootz; "let us proceed with quietness." He opened the topmost letter, and read it slowly through. "It tells us nothing," he said. "It begins ’My dear sister’, and ends ’Eustace’. We go to the next." Unfolding this, he saw at the top the date June 12, 1659, and an address in London. "This is in the same hand," he said. "It is cramped; Harry, your eyes are young; read it, my boy, aloud." Harry took the letter and read: "MY DEARE SISTER,