"Yes; uncle told me so months ago. But I never thought then that he would not live till Walter came of age, and I thought that it was a mere form."
"Doubtless it seemed so at the time," Mr. Pettigrew agreed; "your uncle's was apparently an excellent life, and he was as likely as anyone I know to have attained a great age."
"There is nothing you can advise me to do at present?"
"Nothing whatever, besides what you have done. The police all over London will be on the lookout for a lost child; they will probably assume at once that he has been stolen for his clothes, and will expect to see the child they are in search of in rags. They will know, too, the quarter in which he is most likely to be found. If it is for this purpose that he has been stolen you can confidently expect to have him back by to-morrow at latest; the woman would be anxious to get rid of him without loss of time. If the other hypothesis is correct you may not hear for a fortnight or three weeks; the fellows in that case will be content to bide their time."
Hilda drove back with a heavy heart. Netta herself opened the door, and her swollen eyes at once told the truth.
"Uncle is dead?" Hilda exclaimed.
"Yes, dear; he passed away half an hour ago, a few minutes after Dr. Leeds returned. The doctor ran down himself for a moment, almost directly he had gone up, and said that the General was sinking fast, and that the end might come at any moment. Ten minutes later he came down and told us that all was over."