ore in grief than in anger.

"Why, sir! Bad counsels?" exclaimed Maggie.

"I have given the Wittleworths money enough to keep them comfortable
for the rest of their lives; but they are ungrateful, and are now
seeking to annoy me as much as possible."

"I am very sorry."

"I thought I had done enough for your family to make you all my
friends; but it seems I was mistaken," added the great man, sadly
reproachful in his manner.

"I am sure, sir, we are very grateful to you, and would not willingly
do anything to injure you," protested Maggie, warmly.

"Why did your father tell the Wittleworths, then, that he was employed
in the cholera hospital in Paris?"

"Because he was employed there," replied Maggie, who deemed this a
sufficient reason for saying so.

"Was he, indeed?" asked the banker, who had been sceptical even on this
point.

Maggie told the whole story of the two Marguerites, as she had heard it
from her father.

"One Marguerite died, and you were the other," said Mr. Checkynshaw,
musing.

"Yes, sir; and I don't know to this day who my father and mother were;
but I suppose they died of cholera. I was told they did. _Mon pere_
traced them to their lodgings, and identified the clothing and a locket
I wore."

"A locket?" asked the banker, curiously.

"Yes, sir."

"What was the locket?"

"It was a gold one, with the miniature of a gentleman on one side, and
a lady on the other, with locks of hair. I suppose they were my father
and mother."

"Where is the locket now?"

"_Mon pere_ has it. I don't know where he keeps it. He tried to find my
parents before he came to America, but without success. I saw the
locket once, when I was a little girl; but _mon pere_ don't like to
talk about these things. He loves me, and he only fears that I may be
taken from him."

"But he talked with the Wittleworths about them."

"He couldn't help it then," pleaded Maggie, "when he heard the story of
your child from Fitz."

Mr. Checkynshaw abruptly left the house, and hastened to the shop of
Cutts & Stropmore. He had a long conversation with Andre, and finally
they went to Phillimore Court together.

The banker insisted upon seeing the locket, and Andre showed it to him.

CHAPTER XXIV.

ME AND CHOATE.

"A puppy!" hissed through the teeth of Fitz, when the door closed
behind the great man. "The blood of the Wittleworths boils!"

"Then you had better let the blood of the Wittleworths cool off, my
so