She looked at me questioningly, and I accounted for my rash remark by saying, "There are public as well as private duties, my dear madam, and I should be false to my trust if I neglected the one for the other. I should like to shake hands with your daughter before I go." She went from the room and returned with Constance, who received me cordially. As they stood side by side, their lovely countenances irradiated by thoughts of the bright future in store for them, I was glad to know that I had had some small share in their better fortune. "It is something to have done," I said to myself as I hastened to the station, "to have assisted to bring joy to the hearts of two good women; this in itself is ample reward. Then, old fellow, you have gained two earnest and sincere friends. One of these fine days you shall go to Switzerland, and be witness of the happiness to which you have contributed. And if you can restore to the one a husband, to the other a father----" I rubbed my hands and stepped on gaily. The mystery of M. Felix had engaged and engrossed me for a considerable time, but I was never more interested in it than I was at the present moment. "I will not desist," thought I, "till the end is reached. A bitter ending for the snarers, a sweet ending for the snared." CHAPTER LV. TREACHERY. "News, Agnold!" cried Bob, when I joined him in the country. "Bravo!" I said, "out with it." "Three men answering to the description of those we are seeking were seen yesterday on the road to Monkshead." "Where is that?" "Thirty-two miles from here, as the crow flies." "Who gave you the information?" "Crawley. The fellow is of some use, after all." I was not so sure, but when I questioned Crawley he was so precise and circumstantial in his account that I saw no valid reason to discredit him. He had received the news from a teamster, he said, who had passed the men on the road. Were they walking? Yes. How did the teamster know they were going to Monkshead? They were on the high road. How far from Monkshead? About ten miles. "I have asked questions," said Crawley, "of every stranger who has passed through the village, and this was the only one who could tell me anything at all." "Did you describe Dr. Peterssen's appearance to him?" I asked. "Yes, and he said it was something like another of the men." "Did you describe the third?" "How could I, when I never saw him?" I had put the last question as a test of Crawley's truthfulness; if he had answered otherwise, the doubts I had of his veracity would have been strengthened. "You believe he is speaking the truth, Bob?" I asked my friend, Crawley being out of hearing. "What reason has he to tell lies?" asked Bob, in return. "To show that he is doing something toward earning his wages." "That's cutting it rather fine," said Bob. "You are giving Crawley credit for intellect; I think he is not overstocked in that respect. Can't afford to throw away a chance, Agnold."