dear boy! What is it?" he cried, as Lydia ran to his side, and her
soft hand was laid or his.

"Don't touch me, woman," he almost yelled, as he sprang from his chair.
"Oh," he said, softly, "it is you?"

He took and kissed her hand, and then left the room.

"Preenham, what does this mean?" cried Mr Girtle, as the butler brought
in lights; and they learned the truth.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

WHERE THE TREASURE LAY.

Six months elapsed before Mr Linnett put into execution the project he
had had in his mind that night when he playfully tried the handcuffs on
his wrists.

He had meant business, as he termed it, the next morning, but on
presenting himself at the chief office, one of his superiors sent for
him, and announced an important task.

"Extradition, eh, sir? America?"

"Yes. Cross at once; put yourself in communication with the New York
police, and then spare no expense. He must be found."

"When shall I start, sir?"

"Now."

Mr Linnett did start _now_, saying to himself as he entered a carriage
for Liverpool:

"Well, they didn't set me the job. It was my own doing, and the news
will keep."

So it came about that one morning, when he presented himself at the Dark
House, he was saluted by Mr Preenham with:

"Why, how _do_ you do? We thought we'd quite lost you, Mr Linnett,
sir. You look quite brown."

"I've been pretty well all over America since I saw you, Mr Preenham,
and now, sir, just go and give them my card and say I want to see them
on very particular business."

"Have you found out anything, Mr Linnett?"

"You wait a bit, my dear sir. Just take up the card."

Mr Girtle was in the library with Paul Capel at the time, for the old
man had settled down there, treating the younger as if he were a son.
He had talked several times of going, but Capel begged him not to leave,
and he always stayed.

"Well, Preenham, for me?"

"He said you and master, sir--the gentleman."

"Ah! Linnett. The detective. Will you see him?"

"No," said Capel, sternly. "I don't want that affair opened again."

"But my dear boy--"

"There; very well. Show him up."

The detective came in, smiling, but only to encounter a stern look in
return.

"I've called, gentlemen, about that little matter of the notes and
jewels that were lost."

"My good fellow," said Capel, angrily, "I will not have that matter
taken up again. It is dead."

"Well, sir, the fact is, you wouldn't let me take it up; but I