At three o'clock in the afternoon Gerald came to a standstill. The tortures he was suffering were reflected in his face. "Poor boy, poor boy!" said Leonard, in his gentlest tone. "I can truly sympathize with you, Gerald." "I know, Len, I know," said Gerald. "Let me think quietly; don't speak to me. Something must be done; something shall be done. It weighs like a sin upon my soul that I have driven my dear girl to misery. What must she think of me?" All at once an inspiration fell upon him; his face lighted up; he spoke with hope and animation. "Fool that I am," he cried, "to trust myself. I am going to my lawyers; if you care to come with me, Len----" "Of course I care to come with you," interrupted Leonard. "But why to your lawyers? They cannot assist you." "They can," said Gerald, in a decided tone; and they proceeded to the office arm-in-arm. In a private interview with the head of the firm, at which Leonard was present, Gerald explained what he wanted. The firm was to set all their machinery to work at once to discover where Emilia had flown to; everything was to be done very quietly, and no expense was to be spared. When the young girl was found she was not to be informed that a search had been made for her, but she was to be carefully and secretly watched, and Gerald was to be immediately communicated with. That done, and Gerald conducted to the house in which Emilia had sought refuge, the business entrusted to the lawyers was concluded. Gerald left with the head of the firm a check for a large amount, in proof that he was thoroughly in earnest; and it was arranged that he or Leonard, or both of them, should return to their hotel and wait for news. "If it is in the middle of the night," said Gerald, "let me know. Not a moment must be lost." Then the step-brothers left the office and walked to their hotel. Leonard inwardly gave Gerald credit for being much more practical than he had imagined, but still hoped that his good luck would follow him, and that the business would fail. To Gerald the misery of entrusting the task to other hands lay in the necessity of his remaining inactive himself; but although he would not leave the hotel for fear that a messenger from the lawyers might arrive in his absence, he could not endure to remain idle. He sent a note to the kind maiden ladies who had sheltered Emilia, and received one in reply, to the effect that they had heard nothing of the lost girl; and at least once in every hour he despatched a communication to the lawyers, to which the invariable answer was that the inquiry was proceeding, but no clue had yet been discovered. Gerald did not undress that night; he slept fitfully in an arm-chair. Leonard prepared for any sacrifice in the furtherance of his own interests, took off his coat and waistcoat, and made himself as comfortable as he could with wraps and rugs on a sofa in the same room in which Gerald passed the night. Gerald urged him to go to bed, but he would not.