“Suppose I get the answer late at night, sir?” “I don’t care when you get it, night or day. Dead or living, I will undertake to identify him. Here’s a duplicate key of the garden gate. Come this way, and I’ll show you where my bedroom is. If we are all in bed, tap at the window--and I will be ready for you at a moment’s notice.” On that understanding Morcross left the cottage. The day when the mortal remains of Mrs. Farnaby were laid at rest was a day of heavy rain. Mr. Melton, and two or three other old friends, were the attendants at the funeral. When the coffin was borne into the damp and reeking burial ground, a young man and a woman were the only persons, beside the sexton and his assistants, who stood by the open grave. Mr. Melton, recognizing Amelius, was at a loss to understand who his companion could be. It was impossible to suppose that he would profane that solemn ceremony by bringing to it the lost woman at the cottage. The thick black veil of the person with him hid her face from view. No visible expressions of grief escaped her. When the last sublime words of the burial service had been read, those two mourners were left, after the others had all departed, still standing together by the grave. Mr. Melton decided on mentioning the circumstance confidentially when he wrote to his friend in Paris. Telegrams from Regina, in reply to his telegrams from London, had informed him that Mr. Farnaby had felt the benefit of the remedies employed, and was slowly on the way to recovery. It seemed likely that he would, in no long time, take the right course for the protection of his niece. For the enlightenment which might, or might not, come with that time, Mr. Melton was resigned to wait, with the disciplined patience to which he had been mainly indebted for his success in life. “Always remember your mother tenderly, my child,” said Amelius, as they left the burial ground. “She was sorely tried, poor thing, in her life time, and she loved you very dearly.” “Do you know anything of my father?” Sally asked timidly. “Is he still living?” “My dear, you will never see your father. I must be all that the kindest father and mother could have been to you, now. Oh, my poor little girl!” She pressed his arm to her as she held it. “Why should you pity me?” she said. “Haven’t I got You?” They passed the day together quietly at the cottage. Amelius took down some of his books, and pleased Sally by giving her his first lessons. Soon after ten o’clock she withdrew, at the usual early hour, to her room. In her absence, he sent for Toff, intending to warn him not to be alarmed if he heard footsteps in the garden, after they had all gone to bed. The old servant had barely entered the library, when he was called away by the bell at the outer gate. Amelius, looking into the hall, discovered Morcross, and signed to him eagerly to come in. The police-officer closed the door cautiously behind him. He had arrived with news that Jervy was found.