All things considered, Harley’s prospects of release seemed no better than they were at the time of his conviction. But it was at least a little satisfactory to learn that his health had so far not suffered quite so much as had been feared. His mother, too, bore up wonderfully under all her trials, and expressed her firm faith in the ultimate restoration of her son’s liberty and reputation. Hilton’s fate had been a great blow to her at first. Then, much to the surprise of friends, she declined to believe that he was really dead, in spite of the evidence that was forthcoming to that effect. “Depend upon it,” she said, “God wouldn’t be so cruel as to deprive me of both my boys. I shall yet see them happy and well.” After a time nobody tried to argue her out of this belief, for it comforted her, and kept her from sinking into the despondency that would otherwise have overwhelmed her. Miss Margaret Cory was, as usual, a comfort and a consolation to everybody. Mr. Cory was glad to be at home again, but was as determined as ever to pursue his investigations further. Annie--quiet, subdued, and sad--was yet unremittent in her efforts to gain information likely to be useful. As time wore on, she became more brave, nay, positively daring, and showed such skill in safely following up clues that her father no longer felt any uneasiness about her, even though her absences from home were often unexpectedly lengthened. The family had removed to a new house in a neighbourhood to which they were strange, and none but themselves knew that she was a daughter of the house, since, for prudential reasons, she had retained her masculine clothing, without which it would not have been so easy for her to penetrate unobserved into all sorts of places. Of course the case had been put into the hands of an official detective, who, however, was as much at a standstill as they were. One day Annie, whom the servants and neighbours supposed to be Mr. Edgar Bootle, son of the Rev. Alexander Bootle, found among the letters on the breakfast table one bearing the Bombay postmark. She concluded at once that it was from Captain Gerard, as he had promised to write on his arrival at Bombay. “Look here, father,” she said eagerly, as the “Rev. Mr. Bootle” entered the breakfast room, “here is Captain Gerard’s letter. Open it at once and see what he says.” The request was promptly obeyed, and what was in the letter is here transcribed:-- “SS. ‘Merry Maid,’ Bombay.