After the luncheon, Peters assisted her aged mistress back to her own room, Lally lending an arm to the support of the old lady.
“Ring the bell, Peters,” said Mrs. Wroat, as she again ensconced herself in her favorite chair. “But stay! Bring me my little desk. I want to write a note.”
Peters brought a portable malachite writing-desk, and placed it upon a table before her mistress. Mrs. Wroat, with an unsteady hand, penned a brief note to her lawyer, demanding his immediate attendance upon her, upon a matter of the utmost moment.
“Read it, Peters,” she said, when she had appended her name and the date. “It must be sent immediately. I feel, somehow, as if I had no time to waste. Let the footman take the letter to Mr. Harris and wait for an answer.”
Peters read and sealed the missive, removed the desk and went out upon her errand.
Some two hours later, Mr. Harris, Mrs. Wroat’s lawyer, arrived and was shown into the old lady’s presence. He was an old man, sharp-witted, business-like, and reticent, but honest, kindly, and devoted to the interests of his client, whose personal friend he had been for over a third of a century.
Mrs. Wroat welcomed him with outstretched hands and exclaimed:
“My friend, I have a surprise for you. You have sought, at my request, for my great-niece, Lally Bird, and failed to find her, even with a detective officer to assist you. I am neither lawyer nor detective, but I am more clever than you both. I have found my niece, and here she is. Lally, come nearer. Mr. Harris, this is Lally Bird, the daughter of my niece Clara Percy.”
Lally bowed. Mr. Harris stared at the girl in surprise.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wroat,” he exclaimed, “but your great-niece, Lally Bird, is dead. Our detective discovered the facts some weeks ago, but I feared to communicate them in your present state of health. I cannot, however, permit you to be imposed upon by a possible adventuress. Miss Lally Bird committed suicide last July. She sprang from London Bridge, and struck upon a passing boat, killing her instantly. I have a newspaper in my pocket—”