"What does the paper say? It could not have disclosed much or you would not have waited so long to tell me."
Then Quincy related the story of the sealed package, how it had been given to Alice Pettengill long before Mrs. Putnam died; how Miss Pettengill had sworn to destroy it, but would not when she learned that it might possibly contain information relating to her parents. He told her that Miss Pettengill would not allow any one to read it but herself; and how he had promised to search for her until he found her. Then he related the incident at the lawyer's office and the piece of cloth bearing the name, "Linda Fernborough," "which," said Quincy, "I think must have been your mother's maiden name." He did not tell her of the old gentleman only five blocks away, ready and willing to claim her as his granddaughter without further proof than that little piece of doth.
Quincy looked at his watch. "I have just time," said he, "to get the one o'clock train for Boston. I will obtain the papers to-morrow morning, and be in New York again to-morrow night. The next morning early I will be at your residence with the papers, and let us hope that they will contain such information as will disclose your parentage and give you a name that you can rightfully bear."
She wrote her home address on a card and passed it to him.
He gave her hand a quick, firm pressure and left the store, not even glancing at Hortense, who gazed at him with wonderment. He hailed a hack and was driven to the hotel. He found Sir Stuart and told him that he had found his supposed granddaughter, but that he must wait until he returned from Boston with the papers, that his wife's feelings must be respected, and that the document could only be opened and read by the person who had been known to her as Lindy Putnam.
Quincy reached Mt. Vernon Street about eight o'clock that evening. His wife and aunt listened eagerly to the graphic recital of his search. He pictured the somewhat sensational episode in the boudoir in the most expressive language, and Alice remarked that Quincy was fast gathering the materials for a most exciting romance; while Aunt Ella declared that the disclosure of the dual personality of Linda and Celeste would form a most striking theatrical tableau.
Aunt Ella informed him that she had been requested by Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer to extend an invitation to Miss Bruce Douglas to dine with them on any day that might be convenient for her. "I was included in the invitation, of course," Aunt Ella added. "What day had we better fix, Quincy?" she inquired.
"Make it Christmas," replied Quincy. "Tell them Miss Bruce Douglas has invitations for every other day but that for a month to come. What a precious gift I shall present to my father," said he, caressing his wife, who laid her fair head upon his shoulder.
"Do you think he will be pleased?" asked Alice.
"I don't know which will please him most," replied Quincy, "the fact that such a talented addition has been made to the family, or the knowledge, which will surely surprise him, that his son was smart enough to win such a prize."