l. I glanced at the superscription. It was my name in
the familiar writing. Under it was, "By the hand of the Hon. Pardon
Tiffany."

"Mr. Tiffany, I am very happy to meet you," I said, when I had read
what was on the outside of the letter.

"Captain Alick Garningham, I am more than happy to see you," he
replied, grasping my hand. "I know all about you from your father."

I excused myself, and opened the letter; but it was only an
introduction, written just before my father started for India. He spoke
of Mr. Tiffany as his best and truest friend in England, who was to
travel a year or more in America.

"How long have you been in this country, Mr. Tiffany?" I asked,
thinking it very strange, from the date of the letter, that I had not
seen him before.

"Less than four months. I was ill after your father started for India,
and was unable to leave home till six months later than I had
intended," he replied. "I suppose you hear from your father
occasionally?"

"I have not heard from him since he left for India," I replied.

I saw that he knew nothing of the events which had occurred since I
left Lake St. Clair. It took me an hour to tell the story in full. He
seemed to be greatly astonished when I told him that the person who
chartered the steam-yacht was my cousin, Owen Garningham. He knew most
of the family, though he had never met Owen, who had been away at
school, or on his travels on the Continent, when he visited my father.

Miss Margie had come out of her state-room some time before I finished
my story; but she busied herself with a book till we had concluded our
conference. I asked them both to go on deck with me, and I introduced
them to my passengers. Owen did not appear to know Mr. Tiffany, or to
know of him when his name was mentioned. I thought it was best not to
say anything at present. Both of the guests were treated with the
utmost consideration and kindness by Owen and the Shepards. The story
of the fire was rehearsed, and Miss Margie was the heroine of the hour.

The afternoon was wearing away, and I had yet made no inquiries in
regard to Cornwood. I knew not where to find the person to whom he had
referred me at the house which had been burned. I ordered the boat
again, and went on shore. I found a party at one of the hotels who had
employed the Floridian, and they spoke in the highest terms of him. The
natives of St. Augustine usually smiled when I asked about Cornwood;
but no one said anything