ack."

To be called Jack by such a beautiful lady, who every day of her
life was accustomed to live in a state which he thought could not be
exceeded, even by royal state, almost upset our hero. Had Mrs. Clifton
been Queen Victoria herself, he could not have felt a profounder respect
and veneration for her than he did already.

"Now Jack," said Mrs. Clifton, "we must take measures immediately to
discover Ida. I want you to tell me about her disappearance from your
house, and what steps you have taken thus far towards finding her out."

Jack began at the beginning, and described the appearance of Mrs.
Hardwick; how she had been permitted to carry Ida away under false
representations, and the manner in which he had tracked her to
Philadelphia. He spoke finally of her arrest, and her obstinate refusal
to impart any information as to Ida's whereabouts.

Mrs. Clifton listened attentively and anxiously. There were more
difficulties in the way than she had supposed.

"Do you think of any plan, Jack?" she asked, at length.

"Yes, madam," said our hero. "The man who painted the picture of Ida may
know where she is to be found."

"You are right," said the lady. "I should have thought of it before. I
will order the carriage again instantly, and we will at once go back to
the print-store."

An hour later, Henry Bowen was surprised by the visit of an elegant lady
to his studio, accompanied by a young man of eighteen.

"I think you are the artist who designed 'The Flower-Girl,'" said Mrs.
Clifton.

"I am, madam."

"It was taken from life?"

"You are right."

"I am anxious to find out the little girl whose face you copied. Can you
give me any directions that will enable me to find her out?"

"I will accompany you to the place, if you desire it, madam," said the
young man. "It is a strange neighborhood to look for so much beauty."

"I shall be deeply indebted to you if you will oblige me so far," said
the lady. "My carriage is below, and my coachman will obey your orders."

Once more they were on the move. A few minutes later, and the carriage
paused. The driver opened the door. He was evidently quite scandalized
at the idea of bringing his lady to such a place.

"This can't be the place, madam," he said.

"Yes," said the artist. "Do not get out, madam. I will go in, and find
out all that is needful."

Two minutes later he returned, looking disappointed.

"We are too late," he said. "An hour since a gentleman c