"And give you a chance to escape while I am away? No; I am too sharp for that. Get your bonnet and come with me to the hotel where your uncle is staying," replied Mr. Wren, firmly. With a stifled sob she rose to obey, although she said: "You are very cruel, and I warn you that if I am sent to the lunatic asylum I shall kill myself." "They will not send you there," he replied, soothingly. In a few minutes she joined him in the hall, heavily veiled, and they set forth on their trip to the Broad Street Hotel, where Uncle Ben and Teddy Darrell were staying. He called a hack and assisted her into it, and in a very few minutes they arrived at their destination. Uncle Ben was so prostrated with grief that he had been unable to leave his room for days. He was now in his private parlor, and Teddy was sitting with him, both men looking very sad and dejected, when the door suddenly opened and Jack Wren entered, the picture of triumph, leading a beautiful, weeping, dark-eyed girl. "Kathleen, my darling!" cried Teddy, springing to meet her; but she shrieked, in dismay: "I do not know you!" CHAPTER LIV. "IS THIS YOUR NIECE?" My head is wild with weeping for a grief Which is the shadow of a gentle mind. I walk into the air; but no relief To seek--or, haply, if I sought, to find. SHELLEY. Teddy Darrell was about to clasp the beautiful, weeping girl in his arms; but at her quick cry of alarm, he recoiled in amazement--not alone at her remonstrance, but because her voice was unlike that of Kathleen Carew. Uncle Ben, who had also started forward in eager joy, drew back at the sound of the girl's voice, and the great detective looked from one face to the other in astonishment. "Mr. Carew," he said at last, "is this your niece?" "No," replied Uncle Ben. "No," echoed Teddy Darrell. "I told you so!" cried Daisy Lynn, with a radiant face; and Mr. Wren brought out the photograph. "But this is her very face!" he exclaimed. They agreed with him that it was wonderful--the likeness that existed between the girl and the picture--but they assured him that there were subtle differences in the features, and that the voices were quite unlike. "Then I have to beg this young lady's pardon," said the great detective, rather crestfallen at his mistake; but he added, airily: "There's no harm done, anyhow." "I beg your pardon, but there is," answered Daisy Lynn, her great, eager eyes brimming over with tears. "I have lost my situation with Mrs. Perkins through your mistake." "Impossible!" he cried. "It is, alas! too true," she answered, sadly. "Mrs. Perkins is a very high-tempered woman, and when I attempted to explain to her why I was going out so suddenly, she became terribly alarmed at the idea of my being carried off by a detective. She hinted broadly that I must have committed some dreadful crime, and discharged me on the spot."