, Madame Rene actually gave Donald
a fragment of the gown that had been given to her so long ago; and it
was identical, in color and pattern, with the piece Mr. Wogg had lately
sent him.

"How in the world did you ever get these pieces, Master Donald?" asked
Madame Rene.

Whereupon Donald told her all about his Liverpool friend and her
rag-bag--much to Madame's delight, for she was thankful to know that the
good woman who had helped her long ago was still alive and happy.

"And now," said Donald, pleasantly, "let me hear more of your own
history, for it interests me greatly. Where have you lived all these
years?"

"Well, Master Donald, I went on keeping my own counsel, as I told you,
and never saying a word about the wreck or the two dear babies, and
living with Mr. Percival's family as seamstress and nursery governess,
under my old French name of Eloise Louvain. I was there till, one day,
we said we'd just get married and seek our fortunes together."

"We!" repeated Donald, astonished and rather shocked; "not you and Mr.
Percival?"

"Oh, no, indeed!--I and Edouard Rene," she said, in a tone that gave Don
to understand that Edouard Rene was the only man that any girl in her
senses ever could have chosen for a husband.

"What! The photographer?"

"Yes, Mr. Donald, the photographer. Well, we married, and how many nice
things they gave me--and they were not rich folk, either!"

"They? Who, Madame Rene?"

"Why, Mrs. Percival and the children--gowns and aprons and pretty things
that any young wife might be proud to have. She had married a fine
gentleman, but she had been a poor girl. Her little boy was named after
his grandfather, and it made such a funny mixture,--James Wogg Percival;
but we always called him Jamie."

"Wogg!" exclaimed Don. "I know a James Wogg--a London detective--"

"Oh, that's the son, sir, Mrs. Percival's brother; he's a detective, and
a pretty sharp one, but not sharp enough for me."

She said this with such a confident little toss of her head that Don,
much interested, asked what she meant.

"Why, you see, Mr. Wogg often came to see his sister, Mrs. Percival, as
I think, to borrow money of her; and he was always telling of the
wonderful things he did, and how nothing could escape him, and how
stupidly other detectives did their work. And one day, when I was in the
room, he actually told how some people were looking for one Ellen Lee, a
nursemaid who had been saved from shipwreck, and