"I haven't seen her for, oh, so long--so long. When they put me away she would come to the Tombs--twice she came up the River to see me. But the last time there was something in her face I couldn't understand, then she never came again, and I knew they'd got her. For she had to get along, somehow, and she didn't dare to face me. Poor girl, there was no one to care for her--see to her!" And then all of a sudden flaring up out of his downcast demeanour, he cried: "Curse them! Curse that man Wilkinson--all of them! First they robbed me of my money, then they got me, and now they've got her!" The Governor's eyes narrowed. "What has Wilkinson to do with it?" he demanded. "Why, don't you know?" Ilingsworth burst out excitedly. "Doesn't everybody know? Didn't you read my testimony at the trial?" "Only hurriedly," acknowledged the Governor. "What I wanted to read first was the case made against you. I read your own denial--but as for the rest, well, you were rambling, somewhat incoherent. I didn't understand it--in fact I hardly read it all." Ilingsworth dragged up a chair. "Will you let me tell you, sir, all about it?" Governor Beekman let him tell his story. And scarcely had the last words of Ilingsworth's recital of his wrongs left his lips than Phillips, entering, announced: "Colonel Morehead and some friends to see you, sir!" "Bring them right in!" exclaimed the Governor, at once rising and going with a smile to meet them. Suddenly he remembered Ilingsworth and started to escort that gentleman out of another entrance. "But my daughter," mumbled Ilingsworth as with bowed head he followed the Governor. "If I can't have her back again, why, what's the good of a pardon? I must have help to find her." At the door something impelled him to pause, and looking back he found himself face to face with Peter V. Wilkinson. "That's the man--there--the man that got my money--that's got my daughter! No matter where she is, he's responsible! Look at him! Look at his face! I don't have to tell you...." But the Governor, startled by this outburst and intent upon getting rid of his visitor, did not turn, and consequently he did not see the face of Wilkinson blanch and twitch under the accusing forefinger of his old vice-president, Giles Ilingsworth. "I'll help you find your daughter, sir," the Governor promised, taking the man by the arm; "I'll help you all I can." "Poor chap," said he, returning, and shaking hands with his guests, "seems to have it in for you, Mr. Wilkinson." "I don't blame him having it in for somebody," spoke up Leslie. "It is not his innocence or guilt that interests me, but his daughter. I saw her picture once--saw her twice," she went on wistfully. "How I wish that I might help him...." Colonel Morehead, tucking the Ilingsworth incident into the back of his head for future use, laid down a batch of papers and his printed case upon the Governor's desk.