my child."

Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in the small
apartment to which he had conducted them could be overheard from the
curtained recess in which Daisy sat. But he was mistaken; Daisy could
hear every word of it.

She dared not cry out or walk forth from her place of concealment lest
she should come suddenly face to face with Rex.

As the light had fallen on John Brooks' honest face, how she had
longed to spring forward with a glad little cry and throw herself into
his strong, sheltering arms! She wondered childishly why he was there
with Mr. Tudor, the detective, whose voice she had instantly
recognized.

"I have two errands here to-night," said the detective, pleasantly. "I
hope I shall bring good news, in one sense; the other we will discuss
later on."

The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he wondered why
the detective had used the words "one sense." Surely, he thought,
turning pale, his long-lost child could not be dead.

Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the detective go carefully over the
ground with Basil Hurlhurst--all the incidents connected with the loss
of his child. Daisy listened out of sheer wonder. She could not tell
why.

"I think we have the right clew," continued the detective, "but we
have no actual proof to support our supposition; there is one part
still cloudy."

There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John Brooks. There was a
moment of silence, broken by her uncle John's voice. For several
moments he talked rapidly and earnestly, interrupted now and then by
an exclamation of surprise from the master of Whitestone Hall.

Every word John Brooks uttered pierced Daisy's heart like an arrow.
She uttered a little, sharp cry, but no one heard her. She fairly held
her breath with intense interest. Then she heard the detective tell
them the story of Rex Lyon's marriage with her, and he had come to
Whitestone Hall to stop the ceremony about to be performed.

Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to his feet
with a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken curtains that led
to the study. As he did so he came face to face with Daisy Brooks,
standing motionless, like a statue, before him. Then she fell, with a
low, gasping cry, senseless at Basil Hurlhurst's feet.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Pluma Hurlhurst received her father's summons with no little surprise.
"What can that foolish old man want, I wonder?" she soliloquize