ied by the sharpest detectives that Scotland Yard could provide,
not the slightest clue to Connie's whereabouts could be obtained. The
man was to meet more detectives again that same afternoon, and meanwhile
a sudden gleam of hope darted through Father John's brain.

What a fool he had been not to think of it before! How glad he was now
that he had insisted on getting the name and address of the brave
fireman deliverer from Connie on the previous night!

He went straight now to the house in Carlyle Terrace. He stopped at No.
12. There he rang the bell and inquired if Mrs. Anderson were within.

Mrs. Anderson was the last woman in the world to refuse to see any one,
whether rich or poor, who called upon her. Even impostors had a kindly
greeting from this saintly lady; for, as she was fond of saying to
herself, "If I can't give help, I can at least bestow pity."

Mrs. Anderson was no fool, however, and she could generally read in
their faces the true story of a man or woman who came to her. More often
than not the story was a sad one, and the chance visitor was in need of
help and sympathy. When this was not the case, she was able to explain
very fully to the person who had called upon her what she thought of
deceit and dishonest means of gaining a livelihood; and that person, as
a rule, went away very much ashamed, and in some cases determined to
turn over a new leaf. When this really happened Mrs. Anderson was the
first to help to get the individual who had come to her into respectable
employment.

She was by no means rich, but nearly every penny of her money was spent
on others; her own wants were of the simplest. The house she lived in
belonged to her son, who, although a gentleman by birth, had long ago
selected his profession--that of a fireman in the London Fire Brigade.
He had a passion for his calling, and would not change it for the
richest and most luxurious life in the world.

Now Mrs. Anderson came downstairs to interview Father John. Father John
stood up, holding his hat in his hand. He always wore a black
frock-coat; his hair hung long over his shoulders; his forehead was
lofty; his expressive and marvelously beautiful gray eyes lit up his
rugged and otherwise plain face. It was but to look at this man to know
that he was absolutely impervious to flattery, and did not mind in the
least what others thought about him. His very slight but perceptible
deformity gave to his eyes that pathetic look which def