"You see," she said to him with that triumphant I-told-you-so smile, which women are wont to wear on such occasions, "it was no dream, Sir Harry. Here are the precious lines in my father's writing, word for word, as I repeated them to you that day."
Sir Harry humbly begged her pardon for his doubts.
"You wrote to this Joel McPherson, did you not?" he asks, anxiously.
"Yes," she answers. "Has no word come from him yet?"
"No," Sir Harry replies, "not a word. Perhaps he is dead; perhaps he has gone away."
"We must send someone over to America to look for him," Lady Vera replies decisively.
"I think you are right. It is the best thing that can be done," he agrees.
Her lawyer is of the same opinion. They decide to send Mr. Sharpe, the efficient detective, to Washington to find the missing sexton of Glenwood.
When Lady Vera has repeated to them Leslie Noble's assertion, that he had written to a friend to keep the sexton out of the way, they strongly suspect that McPherson has been made away with.
Mr. Sharpe is sent on his errand to America, Lady Vera's keen-witted lawyer staves off the impending trial from day to day pending the arrival of her important witness, and all wait in suspense for news from the detective.