"From whom could I inquire, Friend Jarman? Frank knew nothing, and his father would not tell me. I never asked, as I did not think it was worth while. But had I inquired, Friend Lancaster would not have replied. According to Ruth, he was a silent and secretive man." "Is Mrs. Lancaster alive now?" "Alas! no. She died when giving birth to the boy. Friend Lancaster kept the baby with him for two years. Then, as he was going on some expedition, he sent the child to me, with a stipend of twenty pounds a month. I brought up the lad as I best knew how. He had a good education at the school here, and then departed to college. Afterwards, he dwelt in London as you know. That is his story. All I know." "But the twenty pounds is paid regularly?" Miss Drake nodded. "Through White & Saon, of Kirk Lane, London. I wished Frank to take it to himself, but he always refused. I use a part of it, but much I put aside. So," said the old lady, looking over her spectacles, "if he should be tried, or if he is in need of money now, Friend Jarman, I have a hundred or so waiting for him." "It will come in handy," said Jarman, idly. He was disappointed at the scanty information afforded by the old lady. "Have you any letters from Mr. Lancaster?" he asked. Miss Drake rose, and produced from a cabinet a bundle of envelopes with the American postmark. These she placed in Jarman's hands, and, having obtained permission, he examined them carefully. While he did so the old lady examined him stealthily and anxiously. Twice she frowned, as if trying to solve some problem. "There's nothing here likely to throw any light on the subject," said Eustace, tying up the bundle again in the faded blue ribbon. "What didst thou expect to find, Friend Jarman?" Eustace pinched his nether lip in perplexity. "I thought to find some mention of Banjo Berry," he said, frowning, "for it seems to me that he is at the bottom of all this business. For some reason he wants Frank hanged." "An evil man--an evil man!" said Miss Drake, shaking her head. "Oh, he's one of the worst," continued Eustace; "but in these letters"--he laid his hand on the bundle--"there is no mention of him. These only ask after the boy and announce the remittance of money. But I notice," said Eustace, looking at his hostess sharply, "that there are no late letters." Miss Drake nodded. "Quite so, Friend Jarman. For many years there have been none. Friend Lancaster stopped writing to me when his son was aged ten. That is nearly fifteen years ago." "So I understand," said Eustace, pondering. "Frank is twenty-five in September. His birthday is in a few weeks."