Hepworth seated himself in the carriage where Mrs. Stacy squeezed herself in one corner, and gathered up her skirts to make room for him, and Stacy had his foot on the step, when a new poster, just placed at the door of the opera house, struck his attention, and he stepped back to examine it.
"'First appearance of a young American, a protege of Olympia.' Just read that poster, Mr. Hepworth, and tell me what you think of it," he said, lifting himself into the carriage. "Mrs. Stacy, my dear, just look that way, and tell me if you can guess who it is that will make a first appearance Monday night? You know that young lady, and so does Mr. Hepworth. Now, make a guess."
"How can you?" said Mrs. Stacy. "You know, Matthew, dear, I never was good at conundrums and such like."
Matthew puffed himself out with a deep, long breath, and clasping two huge hands encased in flame-colored gloves on his knee, leaned toward Hepworth.
"You try, now."
Hepworth shook his head, and Stacy burst out with his mystery.
"It's the identical child that was brought up at the inquest in Forty-third street—Daniel Yates' little daughter."
"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Stacy. "That little creature?"
"It ain't nobody else—you may bet high on that, Mrs. Stacy."
Hepworth kept perfectly still, but his heart fairly stopped beating.