Prompt investigation proved the falsehood of these fraudulent letters in every instance.

No one really knew the fate of the missing man.  No one but Cora Rothsay had even the clew to the cause of his disappearance; and she—­from her sensitive pride, no less than from her sacred promise not to reveal the subject of her communicaton to her husband on that fatal evening of his flight or of his death—­kept her lips sealed on that subject.

Days, weeks and months passed away without bringing any authentic news of the lost ruler.

At length hope was given up.  The advertisements were withdrawn from the papers.

Still occasionally, at long intervals of time, vague rumors reached his friends—­a sailor had seen him in the streets of Rio de Janeiro; a fur trader had found him in Washington Territory; a miner had met him in California—­but nothing came of all these reports.

One morning, late in December, there came some news, not of the actual fate of the governor, but of the long-lost man who had seen the last of him alive.

Despite the bitter pleading of the poor, bereaved bride, who dreaded the crowded city and desired to remain in seclusion in the country, old Aaron had removed his whole family to their town house for the winter.

They had been settled there only a few days, and were gathered around the breakfast table, when a card was brought in to Mr. Rockharrt.

“‘Captain Ross!’ Who, in the fiend’s name, is Captain Ross?  And what does he want at this early hour of the morning?” demanded the Iron King, after he had read the name on the card.  Then, as he scrutinized it, he saw faintly penciled lines below the name and read: 

“The late visitor who called on Governor-elect Rothsay on the evening of his disappearance.”

“Show the man in the library, Jason,” exclaimed old Aaron Rockharrt, rising, leaving his untasted breakfast, and striding out of the room.

In the library he found a young skipper, tall, robust, black bearded and sun burned.

“Captain Ross?” said the old man, interrogatively.

“The same, at your service, sir—­Mr. Rockharrt, I presume?” said the visitor with a bow.

“That’s my name.  Sit down,” said the Iron King, pointing to one chair for his visitor and taking another for himself.

“So you were the last visitor to Mr. Rothsay, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, can you give any information regarding the disappearance of my grandson-in-law?”

“No, sir; but learning that I had been advertised for, I have come forward.”

“At rather a late date, upon my soul and honor!  Where have you been all this time?”

“At sea.  When I called upon Mr. Rothsay, it was to congratulate him on his position and to bid him good-by.  I was on the eve of sailing for India, and, in fact, left the city by the night’s express and sailed the next morning.  I think we must have been out of sight of land before the news of the governor’s disappearance was spread abroad.”