"The wind blows so," continued Lenore, pitifully; "all is dark and uncertain. I have missed him--I do not know him from others." "Try again, my darling. Look well at the letter." "All is dark and uncertain," she repeated, in a vague tone. "It is useless," exclaimed Mr. Burton, in a burst of disappointment; "it has been too long since the letter was penned. The personality of the writer has departed from it. If she had only been able to pursue him to his haunts, our investigations in that vicinity might have richly repaid us." Finding it impossible to get any more information from the child, she was relieved from her trance, stimulated with a glass of cordial, and sent up to take a siesta before the hour for dinner. Scarcely had she left the library before I sprung to my feet, exclaiming, "Good heavens, how easy!--and here I have never thought of it." "What is easy?" "To ascertain who is the John Owen who calls for these letters at Peekskill. Of course--why, what a fool I am!" "I am afraid you will not find it so easy. People carrying on a correspondence for such a purpose, do not come forward openly for their letters--and this was a good while ago--and it is quite possible this may be the only missive ever sent, through the mail, to that address--and this, evidently, was never called for." "At least, it is worth inquiring into," I added, less triumphantly. "Of course it is. We wish, also, to ascertain how the letter came dragging along to Washington two years, nearly, behind its time. I propose that we start for Peekskill by the early morning train." To wait, even until morning, seemed too tardy for my mood. But as it was now four o'clock, and I had no right to ask the detective to resign his dinner and evening comfort, I made no objection to the time. And, in truth, the time sped more swiftly than I expected; we had still so much to discuss. Dinner came--and the hour of retiring followed--before we had matured our course of action. We were to go to Peekskill and learn all possible about John Owen. If we gained no important information there, we were to go on, in the evening, to Blankville, to enter, under cover of the darkness, the lawn of the Argyll house, and secure the broken knife or dagger, which, we believed, we should find secreted in a certain oak upon the premises. This we wished to do without the knowledge of the family, for two reasons: the smaller one of which was, that I did not wish my visit to be made known, and the larger, that we both were certain we could prosecute our plans more successfully if the friends knew nothing of our efforts. Then, if we still failed to discover the accomplice, we were to sail for California.