But, most of all, he longed to see close to him the man whom the police sought for in and out, to judge for himself what might be the method and the purpose of his strange outrages.  He scarcely desired his capture, for he thought of the possible results to Julius, and yet—­Day after day passed, and still the man was unfound, and very soon a change came over Lefevre’s life, which lifted it so far above the plane of his daily professional experience, that all speculation about the mysterious “M.  Dolaro,” and his probable relation to Julius, fell for a time into the dim background.  The doctor had been calling daily in Carlton Terrace to see his patient, when, on a certain memorable day, he intimated to her father that she was so completely recovered that there was no need of his calling on her professionally again.  The old lord, looking a little flustered, asked him if he could spare a few minutes’ conversation, and led him into his study.

“My dear Lefevre,” said he, “I am at a loss how to make you any adequate return for what you have done for my daughter.  Money can’t do it; no, nor my friendship either, though you are so kind as to say so.  But I have an idea, which I think it best to set before you frankly.  You are a bachelor:  it is not good to be a bachelor,” he went on, laying his hand affectionately on the doctor’s arm, and flushing—­old man of the world though he was—­flushing to the eyes.  “What—­what do you think of my daughter?  I mean, not as a doctor, but as a man?”

Lefevre was not in his first youth, and he had had his admirations for women in his time, as all healthy men must have, but yet he was made as deliriously dizzy as if he were a boy by his guess at what Lord Rivercourt meant.

“Why,” he stammered, “I think her the most beautiful, intelligent, and—­and attractive woman I know.”

“Yes,” said her father, “I believe she is pretty well in all these ways.  But—­and you see I frankly expose my whole position to you—­what would you think of her for a wife?”

“Frankly, then,” said Lefevre, “I find I have admired her from the beginning of this, but I had no notion of letting my admiration go farther, because I conceived that she was quite beyond my hopes.”

“My dear fellow,” said Lord Rivercourt, “you have relieved me and delighted me immensely.  I know no man that I would like so well for a son-in-law.  And after all, it is only fitting that the life you have saved with such risk to yourself—­oh, I know all about it—­should be devoted to making yours happy.  And—­and I understand from her mother that Mary is quite of the same opinion herself.  Now, will you go and speak to her at once, or will you wait till another day?  You will have to decide that,” said he, with a smile, “not only as lover, but as doctor.”

Lefevre hesitated for but an instant; for what true, manly lover would have decided to withdraw till another day when the door to his mistress was held open to him?