bought the business from Mrs. Duplex, a widow residing in this
town, and he happened to know that her husband had taken it from
Whitaker, a merchant at Boston.

"Is he alive, sir?"

"I believe so, and very well known."

Monckton went off to Whitaker, and learned from him that he had bought
the business from Bartley, but it was many years ago, and he had never
heard of the purchaser since that day.

Monckton returned to London baffled. What was he to do? Go to a
secret-inquiry office? Advertise that if Mr. Robert Bartley, late of
Hull, would write to a certain agent, he would hear of something to his
advantage? He did not much fancy either of these plans. He wanted to
pounce on Bartley, or Hope, or both.

Then he argued thus: "Bartley has got lots of money now, or he would not
have given up business. Ten to one he lives in London, or visits it. I
will try the Park."

Well, he did try the Park, both at the riding hour and the driving hour.
He saw no Bartley at either time.

But one day in the Lady's Mile, as he listlessly watched the carriages
defile slowly past him, with every now and then a jam, there crawled
past him a smart victoria, and in it a beautiful woman with glorious
dark eyes, and a lovely little boy, the very image of her. It was his
wife and her son.

Monckton started, but the lady gave no sign of recognition. She bowed,
but it was to a gentleman at Monckton's side, who had raised his hat to
her with marked respect.

"What a beautiful crechaar!" said a little swell to the gentleman in
question. "You know her?"

"Very slightly."

"Who is she? A duchess?"

"No; a stock-broker's wife, Mrs. Braham. Why, she is a known beauty."

That was enough for Monckton. He hung back a little, and followed the
carriage. He calculated that if it left the Park at Hyde Park corner, or
the Marble Arch, he could take a hansom and follow it.

When the victoria got clear of the crowd at the corner, Mrs. Braham
leaned forward a moment and whispered a word to her coachman. Instantly
the carriage dashed at the Chesterfield Gate and into Mayfair at such a
swift trot that there was no time to get a cab and keep it in sight.

Monckton lighted a cigarette. "Clever girl!" said he, satirically. "She
knew me, and never winked."

The next day he went to the lawyer and said, "I have a little favor to
ask you, sir."

The lawyer was on his guard directly, but said nothing.

"An interview--in this office--with Mrs. Braham.