"Well, it was rather a case of luck," he explained. "You see, I lived some years in Great Bradley myself; that is where I first met your uncle. I was a little boy at the time. But it wasn't my acquaintance with Great Bradley which helped me. Did you see in the paper the other day the fact that, in pulling down an old post office building, a number of letters were discovered which had evidently slipped through the floor of the old letter-box, and had not been delivered?" "I read something about it," she smiled; "forty or fifty years old, were they not?" He nodded. "One of these," he said, quietly, "was addressed to Tollington, and was signed by his sister. I saw it this morning at the General Post Office. I happened to spot the paragraph, which was sent in to my paper, to the effect that these letters had been undelivered for forty or fifty years, and fortunately our correspondent at Great Bradley had secured a list of the addresses. I saw that one of these was to George Tollington of Chicago, and on the off chance I went down to Great Bradley. Thanks to the courtesy of the Postmaster-General I was able to copy the letter. It was a short one." He fumbled in his pocket and produced a sheet of paper. "DEAR GEORGE," he read, "this is just to tell you that we are quite well and prosperous. I saw your advertisement in the _Times_ newspaper and was pleased to hear from you. Henry sends to you his kindest regards and duties. "Your loving sister, "ANNIE." "Of course, it is not much to go on," he said apologetically, folding the letter up and replacing it in his pocket. "I suppose Great Bradley has had a constant procession of Annies, but at any rate it is something." "It is indeed," she smiled. "It means quite a lot to me, or at least it did," he corrected himself. "I had an arrangement with your uncle, which was approved by the other trustees of the estate. It means a tremendous lot," he repeated. There was some significance in his tone and she looked up to him quickly. "In money?" she asked. "In other things," he said, lowering his voice. "Doris, I have not had an opportunity of saying how sorry I am about the will; it is hateful that you should be forced by the wishes of your guardian to take a step which may be unpleasant to you." She coloured a little and turned her eyes away. "I--I do not want to take advantage of that wish," he went on awkwardly. "I want you to be happy. I want you to come to me for no other reason than the only one that is worth while; that you have learned to care for me as I care for you." Still she made no response and he sighed heavily. "Some day," he said, wistfully, "I had hoped to bring in my hands all the material advantages which a man can offer to the woman he loves." "And do you think that would make a difference?" she asked quickly.