Quincy’s story was soon told.  The old gentleman listened with breathless interest, and when at the close Quincy said, “What do you think?” Mr. Fernborough cried, “It must be she, my daughter’s child.  There are no other Fernboroughs in England, and Linda has been a family name for generations.  Heaven bless you, young man, for your kindly interest, and take me to my grandchild at once.  She is the only tie that binds me to earth.  All the others are dead and gone.”

The old gentleman broke down completely, and for several minutes was unable to speak.

Quincy waited until his emotion had somewhat subsided.  Then he said, “I am at your service, sir; we will do our best to find her.  I have a feeling that she is in New York, but not a single fact to prove it.  We can take the one o’clock train, if you desire.”

The old gentleman began at once to prepare for the journey.  Quincy told him he would meet him at the hotel office, and from there he sent a note to Aunt Ella informing her of his intended departure.

Arriving in New York they were driven at once to the Fifth Avenue Hotel.  Quincy prevailed upon Sir Stuart to retire at once, telling him that he would prepare an advertisement and have it in the next morning’s issue of the “New York Herald.”

Quincy wrote out two advertisements and sent them by special messenger to the newspaper office.  The first one read:  “Linda:  important paper not destroyed, as suspected.  Communicate at once with Eastborough, ‘Herald’ office.”  The second was worded as follows:  “Celeste A——­t:  an American friend has a message for you from me.  Send your address at once to Eastborough, ‘Herald’ office.  Algernon H.”

Then began the days of weary waiting; the careful examination of the “Herald” each morning, to be sure that the advertisements were in, for both had been paid for a week in advance.  The request for mail made every morning at the “Herald” office received a stereotyped “no” for answer; then he vowed that he would advertise no more, but would enlist other aids in the search.

On the morning of the eighth day Quincy stood upon the steps of the Fifth Avenue Hotel.  He was undecided which way to go.  It is in such cases of absolute uncertainty that unseen powers should give their aid, if they ever do, for then it is most needed.  He did not hear any angels’ voices, but he crossed over Broadway and started up town on the right-hand side of that great thoroughfare.  As he walked on he glanced at the shop windows, for they were resplendent with holiday gifts, for Christmas was only one short week away.

Just beyond the corner of Broadway and Twenty-ninth Street his attention was attracted by a wax figure in a milliner’s window.  The face and golden hair reminded him of his wife, and he thought how pretty Alice would look in the hat that was upon the head of the figure.  His first inclination was to go in and buy it, then he thought that it would make an unhandy package to carry with him, and besides his taste might not be appreciated.