Miss Drayton looked up quickly from her book.

“Patrick Henry Patterson!” she said severely.  “Shame on you!  Stop teasing that child.  Give her the doll this instant—­this instant, sir!”

Anne hugged her regained pet and walked away, carefully avoiding Pat’s mischievous eyes.  A few minutes later, a bag of macaroons slipped over her shoulder, and a merry voice announced:  “William Tell gives this to his br-rave, beloved child.”  And before Anne could speak, Pat was gone to join some other boys in a game of ring toss.

With a forgiving smile at him, she sauntered on and stood gazing over the railing at the motley crowd in the steerage.  She was looking for the Irish mother with three curly-haired children.  She wanted to share her macaroons with them.  They always looked hungry, and it was really as much fun to throw them bonbons as to feed the greedy little squirrels in Central Park.  The children were not in sight, however, and Anne loitered, leaning on the rail.  She felt rather than saw some one watching her.  Looking down, she met for a fleeting second the dark, intent eyes of a steerage passenger, a man in a coarse shirt and blue overalls.  His face—­as much of it as she could see under the broad soft hat pulled over the eyes—­was covered with a dark scrubby beard.

On a sudden impulse, Anne leaned forward and called in her clear little voice:  “Here, you man in blue overalls! catch!”

The man started violently, and the macaroons rolled on the deck.  He leaned forward and seemed intent on picking up the fragments, but his hand shook so that it was slow work.  “Thank you, little lady,” he said after awhile, in a gruff voice.  “I hope you have good friends.”

“Indeed, I have.  Have you?”

Perhaps he did not hear her.  At all events, he moved quickly away, without raising his head.  Then Pat came, calling Anne.  He wanted her to hear what a man was telling about the headlands that were beginning to take form on the horizon.  Their voyage was almost over.  In a few hours, they would reach Liverpool.

The dock was entered at last and with as little delay as possible Mrs. Patterson’s party drove to the Roxton Hotel.  No one noticed that the carriage was followed closely by a shabby cab.  Unseen, its passenger—­a man in blue overalls with a soft hat pulled over his eyes—­watched the little party enter the hotel.  Then he alighted, paid his fare, shouldered his canvas travelling bag, and disappeared down a dingy street.

CHAPTER VI

“What news for Anne?” wondered Miss Drayton as they drove to their hotel.  Captain Wards had sent a wireless message to the New York chief of police, asking that Anne’s relatives be informed of her whereabouts and that tidings of them be sent to Miss Drayton at the Roxton Hotel in Liverpool.  Awaiting her, there were two cablegrams.  Both were from the New York chief of police.  One was in these words:  “No trace Mayo.  Will find and notify child’s other relatives.”  The other cablegram read thus:  “No trace any relatives of child.  Letter will follow.”