"Yes. It was in a little town in Ohio—"
"Merton," said I.
"That's it! But how did you know?"
I smiled at her surprise. "It's Felix Page's birth-place; the rest was inference."
She waited with ill-concealed curiosity for what was to follow. I found it necessary to hold her hands—both of them—while I told her.
"Would you mind making a journey there?—at once—to-day?"
Her eyes opened wide; even her sweet lips parted; but she waited.
And now I found it really essential to put my arm around her and draw her to me—she was too agitated to hear otherwise what I had to say. I hastened to explain how impossible it was for me to leave the city just at the time, what with my anxiety to recover the ruby and the necessity of keeping in close touch with Burke.
"I require only one more piece to complete the answer to our riddle," I affirmed,—I really thought so at the time,—"and you can get it for me. Don't bother your aunt; she will keep back all essentials, anyway. Your uncle and aunt and Felix Page all came from the same town, and there you can find plenty of old gossips who can—they 'll be only too willing to—give you all the information you want. They 'll give you more; but we can winnow the wheat from the chaff after you get back. Do you feel equal to such an undertaking?"
The proposal appeared to overcome her. She considered for a time, then turned to me, her eyes dancing, her cheeks flushed.