"She is dead. I believe she died shortly after your birth. I have been with your father but fourteen years. I know but little of his life prior to that." "Why did he leave me all these years without ever coming to see me? Why?" "It is not for me, Miss Florence, to inquire into your father's act. But I do know that whatever he did was meant for the best. Your welfare was everything to him." "It is all very strange," said the girl, bewilderedly. "Why didn't he come to meet me instead of you?" Jones stared at his hands, miserably. "Why?" she demanded. "I have thought of him, thought of him. He has hurt me with all this neglect. I expected to see him at the station, to throw my arms, around his neck and ... forgive him!" Tears swam in her eyes as she spoke. "Everything will be explained to you when we reach the house. But always remember this, Miss Florence: You were everything in this wide world to your father. You will never know the misery and loneliness he suffered that you might not have one hour of unrest. What are your plans?" he asked abruptly of the teacher from Miss Farlow's. "That depends," she answered, laying her hand protectingly over the girl's. "You could leave Miss Farlow's on the moment?" "Yes." "Then you will stay and be Miss Florence's companion?" "Gladly." "What is my father's name?" "Hargreave, Stanley Hargreave." The girl's eyes widened in terror. Suddenly she burst into a wild frenzy of sobbing, her head against the shoulder of her erstwhile teacher. Jones appeared visibly shocked. "What is it?" "We read the story in the newspaper," said the elder woman, her own eyes filling with tears. "The poor child! To have all her castles-in-air tumble down like this! But what authority have you to engage me?" sensibly. Jones produced a document, duly signed by Hargreave, and witnessed and sealed by a notary, in which it was set forth that Henry Jones, butler and valet to Stanley Hargreave, had full powers of attorney in the event of his (Hargreave's) disappearance; in the event of his death, till Florence became of legal age. Said Jones as he put the document back in his pocket: "What is your name?" "Susan Wane." "Do you love this child?" "With all my heart, the poor unhappy babe!" "Thank you!" Inside the home he conducted them through the various rooms, at the same time telling them what had taken place during the preceding night. "They have not found his body?" asked Florence. "My poor, poor father!" "No." "Then he may be alive!" "Please God that he may!" said the butler, with genuine piety, for he had loved the man who had gone forth into the night so bravely and so strangely. "This is your room. Your father spent many happy hours here preparing it for you." Tears came into the girl's eyes again, and discreetly Jones left the two alone. "What shall I do, Susan? Whatever shall I do?" "Be brave as you always are. I will never leave you till you find your father."