“My own letter—actually my own—returned from the post-office, with an intimation—such an intimation!—but read for yourself.” She handed to Mr. Ellin an envelope; he took from it the returned note and a paper—the paper bore a hastily-scrawled line or two. It said, in brief terms, that there was no such place in Midland County as May Park, and that no such person had ever been heard of there as Conway Fitzgibbon, Esquire. On reading this, Mr. Ellin slightly opened his eyes. “I hardly thought it was so bad as this,” said he. “What? you did think it was bad then? You suspected that something was wrong?” “Really! I scarcely knew what I thought or suspected. How very odd, no such place as May Park! The grand mansion, the grounds, the oaks, the deer, vanished clean away. And then Fitzgibbon himself! But you saw Fitzgibbon—he came in his carriage?” “In his carriage!” echoed Miss Wilcox; “a most stylish equipage, and himself a most distinguished person. Do you think, after all, there is some mistake?” “Certainly, a mistake; but when it is rectified I don’t think Fitzgibbon or May Park will be forthcoming. Shall I run down to Midland County and look after these two precious objects?” “Oh! would you be so good, Mr. Ellin? I knew you would be so kind; personal inquiry, you know—there’s nothing like it.” “Nothing at all. Meantime, what shall you do with the child—the pseudo-heiress, if pseudo she be? Shall you correct her—let her know her place?” “I think,” responded Miss Wilcox, reflectively—“I think not exactly as yet; my plan is to do nothing in a hurry; we will inquire first. If after all she should turn out to be connected as was at first supposed, one had better not do anything which one might afterwards regret. No; I shall make no difference with her till I hear from you again.” “Very good. As you please,” said Mr. Ellin, with that coolness which made him so convenient a counsellor in Miss Wilcox’s opinion. In his dry laconism she found the response suited to her outer worldliness. She thought he said enough if he did not oppose her. The comment he stinted so avariciously she did not want. Mr. Ellin “ran down,” as he said, to Midland County. It was an errand that seemed to suit him; for he had curious predilections as well as peculiar methods of his own. Any secret quest was to his taste; perhaps there was something of the amateur detective in him. He could conduct an inquiry and draw no attention. His quiet face never looked inquisitive, nor did his sleepless eye betray vigilance. He was away about a week. The day after his return, he appeared in Miss Wilcox’s presence as cool as if he had seen her but yesterday. Confronting her with that fathomless face he liked to show her, he first told her he had done nothing.