"I am not at liberty to speak one word on the subject, although I would gladly oblige you, Van Zandt, were it in my power!" he cried, affably.
"At least tell me if Una is young, and if it is a real name, or a nom de plume," pleaded Eliot.
"I regret that I am not at liberty to answer your questions," repeated courteous Mr. Chesterton.
Baffled, but almost convinced by all this mystery that Maud's friendly critic was none other than his lovely, lost Una, Eliot went away in despair, and found a comforter in Carmontelle.
"Leave it to me, Eliot, and I will find out all about the little runaway," he said, confidently.
He went to a directory and found out the residence of Mr. Chesterton, a stately brown-stone residence in a fashionable and aristocratic street.
A day or two later he said to Van Zandt:
"I have found out all about the members of Mr. Chesterton's family. He has a handsome young wife, three small children, and a beautiful young governess."
"Una!" Eliot cried, with a start.
"Perhaps so; but we must not be too sure. I have not seen her yet," said Carmontelle.