"You say the names upon that ring were Eugene—Capitola?"
"Yes, sir, they were."
"Have you that ring about you?"
"No, marster. I thought it was best in case of accidents to leave it with the child."
"Have you told her any part of this strange history?"
"No, marster, nor hinted at it; she was too young for such a confidence."
"You were right. Had she any mark about her person by which she could be identified?"
"Yes, marster, a very strange one. In the middle of her left palm was the perfect image of a crimson hand, about half an inch in length. There was also another. Henry Greyson, to please me, marked upon her forearm, in India ink, her name and birthday—'Capitola, Oct. 31st, 1832.'"
"Right! Now tell me, my good soul, do you know, from what you were able to observe, what house that was where Capitola was born?"
"I am on my oath! No, sir; I do not know, but——"