supposed to be my
daughter was held in captivity was not far from your African estates,
and he advised that I come at once and call upon you--that you would
know if such a girl were in your neighborhood."

"What proof did the Arab bring that she was your daughter?" asked Lord
Greystoke.

"None," replied the other. "That is why we thought best to consult you
before organizing an expedition. The fellow had only an old photograph
of her on the back of which was pasted a newspaper cutting describing
her and offering a reward. We feared that having found this somewhere
it had aroused his cupidity and led him to believe that in some way he
could obtain the reward, possibly by foisting upon us a white girl on
the chance that so many years had elapsed that we would not be able to
recognize an imposter as such."

"Have you the photograph with you?" asked Lord Greystoke.

The General drew an envelope from his pocket, took a yellowed
photograph from it and handed it to the Englishman.

Tears dimmed the old warrior's eyes as they fell again upon the
pictured features of his lost daughter.

Lord Greystoke examined the photograph for a moment. A queer
expression entered his eyes. He touched a bell at his elbow, and an
instant later a footman entered.

"Ask my son's wife if she will be so good as to come to the library,"
he directed.

The two men sat in silence. General Jacot was too well bred to show in
any way the chagrin and disappointment he felt in the summary manner in
which Lord Greystoke had dismissed the subject of his call. As soon as
the young lady had come and he had been presented he would make his
departure. A moment later Meriem entered.

Lord Greystoke and General Jacot rose and faced her. The Englishman
spoke no word of introduction--he wanted to mark the effect of the
first sight of the girl's face on the Frenchman, for he had a theory--a
heaven-born theory that had leaped into his mind the moment his eyes
had rested on the baby face of Jeanne Jacot.

General Jacot took one look at Meriem, then he turned toward Lord
Greystoke.

"How long have you known it?" he asked, a trifle accusingly.

"Since you showed me that photograph a moment ago," replied the
Englishman.

"It is she," said Jacot, shaking with suppressed emotion; "but she does
not recognize me--of course she could not." Then he turned to Meriem.
"My child," he said, "I am your--"

But she interrupted him with a quick, glad cry, as