"There has always been so much mystery to me about my father that I'm not surprised," she replied. "No!--I'm just thankful! For this man--whoever he is--says that my father's innocence is known to him. And that's--just think what it means--to me!" "Why doesn't he come forward and prove it, then?" demanded Brereton. Avice shook her head. "He--they--want it to be proved without that," she answered. "But--don't you think that if all else fails the man who wrote this would come forward? Oh, surely!" Brereton stood silently looking at her for a full minute. From the first time of meeting with her he had felt strangely and strongly attracted to his client's daughter, and as he looked at her now he began to realize that he was perhaps more deeply interested in her than he knew. "It's all the most extraordinary mystery--this about your father--that ever I came across!" he exclaimed suddenly. Then he looked still more closely at her. "You've been worrying!" he said impetuously. "Don't! I beg you not to. I'll move heaven and earth--because I, personally, am absolutely convinced of your father's innocence. And--here's powerful help." "You'll do what's suggested here?" she asked. "Certainly! It's a capital idea," he answered. "I'd have done it myself if I'd been a rich man--but I'm not. Cheer up, now!--we're getting on splendidly. Look here--ask Mrs. Northrop to let you come out with me. We'll go to the solicitor--together--and see about that reward at once." As they presently walked down to the town Brereton gave Avice another of his critical looks of inspection. "You're feeling better," he said in his somewhat brusque fashion. "Is it this bit of good news?" "That--and the sense of doing something," she answered. "If I wasn't looking well when you came in just now, it was because this inaction is bad for me. I want to do something!--something to help. If I could only be stirring--moving about. You understand?" "Quite!" responded Brereton. "And there is something you can do. I saw you on a bicycle the other day. Why not give up your teaching for a while, and scour the country round about, trying to get hold of some news about your father's movements that night? That he won't tell us anything himself is no reason why we shouldn't find out something for ourselves. He must have been somewhere--someone must have seen him! Why not begin some investigation?--you know the district. How does that strike you?" "I should be only too thankful," she said. "And I'll do it. The Northrops are very kind--they'll understand, and they'll let me off. I'll begin at once--tomorrow. I'll hunt every village between the sea and the hills!" "Good!" said Brereton. "Some work of that sort, and this reward--ah, we shall come out all right, you'll see."