“DEAR SIR,--I have had nothing in particular to write since the flight of Miss Potts, except to tell you what they were doing. I have already informed you that they kept three spies at Holby to watch her. One of these returned, as I told you in my last letter, with the information that she had gone to London with a party named Langhetti. Ever since then _they_ have been talking it over, and have come to the conclusion to get a detective and keep him busy watching her with the idea of getting her back, I think. I hope to God they will not get her back. If you take any interest in her, Sir, as you appear to do, I hope you will use your powerful arm to save her. It will be terrible if she has to come back here. She will die, I know. Hoping soon to have something more to communicate, “I remain, yours respectfully, “E.L. “Mr. Smithers, Sen., London.” [Illustration: “LANGHETTI IS ALIVE.”] Louis read this letter over several times and fell into deep thought. Frank went on reading his letters, looking up from time to time. At last he put down the last one. “Louis!” said he. Louis looked up. “You came so late last night that I haven’t had a chance to speak about any thing yet. I want to tell you something very important.” “Well!” “Langhetti is alive.” “I know it.” “You knew it! When? Why did you not tell me?” “I didn’t want to tell any thing that might distract you from your purpose.” “I am not a child, Louis! After my victory over Rothschild I ought to be worthy of your confidence.” “That’s not the point, Frank,” said Louis; “but I know your affection for the man, and I thought you would give up all to find him.” “Well!” “Well. I thought it would be better to let nothing interpose now between us and our purpose. No,” he continued, with a stern tone, “no, no one however dear, however loved, and therefore I said nothing about Langhetti. I thought that your generous heart would only be distressed. You would feel like giving up every thing to find him out and see him, and, therefore, I did not wish you even to know it. Yet I have kept an account of his movements, and know where he is now.” “He is here in London,” said Frank, with deep emotion. “Yes, thank God!” said Louis. “You will see him, and we all will be able to meet some day.” “But,” asked Frank, “do you not think Langhetti is a man to be trusted?”