“I will go,” said he; “and I hope he who is gone will forgive my want of courage.”

“He who is gone took my promise never to marry again.”

“Dying men see clearer.  I am sure he wished—­no matter; it is too delicate.”  He kissed her hand and went out, a picture of dejection.

Mrs. Staines shed a tear for him.

Nothing was heard of him for several days; and Rosa pitied him more and more, and felt a certain discontent with herself, and doubt whether she had done right.

Matters were in this state, when one morning Emily came screaming in from the garden, “The child!—­Master Christie!—­Where is he?—­Where is he?”

The house was alarmed.  The garden searched, the adjoining paddock.  The child was gone.

Emily was examined, and owned, with many sobs and hysterical cries, that she had put him down in the summer-house for a minute, while she went to ask the gardener for some balm, balm tea being a favorite drink of hers.  “But there was nobody near that I saw,” she sobbed.

Further inquiry proved, however, that a tall gypsy woman had been seen prowling about that morning; and suspicion instantly fastened on her.  Servants were sent out right and left; but nothing discovered; and the agonized mother, terrified out of her wits, had Falcon telegraphed to immediately.

He came galloping down that very evening, and heard the story.  He galloped into Gravesend, and after seeing the police, sent word out he should advertise.  He placarded Gravesend with bills, offering a reward of a thousand pounds, the child to be brought to him, and no questions asked.

Meantime the police and many of the neighboring gentry came about the miserable mother with their vague ideas.

Down comes Falcon again next day; tells what he has done, and treats them all with contempt.  “Don’t you be afraid, Mrs. Staines,” said he.  “You will get him back.  I have taken the sure way.  This sort of rogues dare not go near the police, and the police can’t find them.  You have no enemies; it is only some woman that has fancied a beautiful child.  Well, she can have them by the score, for a thousand pounds.”

He was the only one with a real idea; the woman saw it, and clung to him.  He left late at night.

Next morning out came the advertisements, and he sent her a handful by special messenger.  His zeal and activity kept her bereaved heart from utter despair.

At eleven that night came a telegraph:—­

“I have got him.  Coming down by special train.”

Then what a burst of joy and gratitude!  The very walls of the house seemed to ring with it as a harp rings with music.  A special train, too! he would not let the mother yearn all night.

At one in the morning he drove up with the child and a hired nurse.

Imagine the scene!  The mother’s screams of joy, her furious kisses, her cooing, her tears, and all the miracles of nature at such a time.  The servants all mingled with their employers in the general rapture, and Emily, who was pale as death, cried and sobbed, and said, “Oh, ma’am, I’ll never let him out of my sight again, no, not for one minute.”  Falcon made her a signal, and went out.  She met him in the garden.