"It may have been a dream, but so impressed was I by the old lady's story that all the rest of the week I searched for further light upon it. Into old carven chests I dived, opening package after package of mouldy papers. In the attic trunks and boxes were rifled, until at last, about to give up in despair, I found in an old desk a letter. It was in French with the Benneville crest and seal, brown with age, and by no means easy to decipher. The place of writing, and the date, quite beyond human ken, so frayed and stained was the upper margin. Freely translated, the letter read: "'My Dear Old Bobby: "'Here we are, safe and sound. And what can I say to you, friend of friends? This last scrape was the worst of all; was it not? Worse by far than the affairs with the little Italian, or the fat Princess, eh, Bobby, my boy? Our heartfelt thanks to his Majesty, God bless him! and to Lady Morley-Frere, and to your dear self--our eternal love! Oh, Bobby, the thought of marrying that sour-visaged cousin of mine makes me ill, even now! And yet--at the time, before I told you--I felt myself slowly drifting into it. The ground seemed to be slipping from under my feet, as it were. I felt wholly lost--trapped, by Jove! She was very determined. We are here with the Ambassador until the affair blows over. My sweetest Mary joins me in love. "'Ever your affectionate friend, "'BENNEVILLE.'" "A dirty low trick of that fellow Benneville, I must say," said Colonel Manysnifters disgustedly. "That sort of thing could never have happened in these days. Did they ever move the Darragh woman's picture out of the room?" he asked. "I believe so--some years later," replied Senator Hammond dryly; "in fact, they were _all_ moved out, and hurried into the up-country for safe-keeping. That was about the time that we boys in blue were making it particularly unpleasant for the residents of that part of the State. I never knew the fate of the collection. I have not been South since '64." "Well, anyway, Senator," said the Colonel, "I see you have got a line on your ancestors, and that's more than many of us can say. I've never bothered about mine. Descendants are bad enough. My forebears came over to America years ago as ballast--didn't have any names, just numbers, mostly thirteen and twenty-three! That old lady you were telling us about certainly got it in the neck, and I hope that she will even matters up in the other world. If she hasn't, by the time I get there I will do all I can to help her out--always assuming, of course, that I am going to the same place. "Now, if you gentlemen of the press will kindly step to the front and favor us with your yarns we will all be mightily obliged to you. I have heard nothing from any of you since 'way back in the dining-car. Some observation about the moon, I believe." Mr. Callahan, the dean of the corps, blushed slightly.