But she came nearer.
'We got home only this morning. It was a sudden wish of my father's—he thought Italy wasn't suiting him. We came straight from Rome. I wrote to you by this morning's post. Then—this afternoon—after we'd settled my father—I drove to Lincoln's Inn Fields. And I found them so excited—just sending off a messenger to you. A letter had arrived by the afternoon post, an hour after you left the office. I have it here—they trusted it to me. Oh, dear Mr. Fenwick, listen to me! They are on the track—it's a real clue this time! Your wife has been in Canada—they know where she was three months ago—it's only a question of time now. Oh! and they told me about the theatre—how wonderful! Oh! I believe they're not far off—know it—I feel it!'
He had fallen on his chair; she stood beside him.
'And you've been ill,' she said, sadly, 'and in great distress, I'm afraid—about money, was it? Oh, if I'd only known! But you'll let me make that right, won't you?—you couldn't refuse me that? And think! you'll have them again—your wife—your little girl.'
She smiled at him, while the tears slipped down her cheeks. She cherished his cold hands, holding them close in her warm, soft palms.
He seemed to be trying to speak. Then suddenly he disengaged himself, rose feebly, went to the mantelpiece, lit another candle, and brought it, holding it towards something on a chair—beckoning to her. She went to him—perceived the unframed portrait—and cried out.
'Phoebe sent it me—just now,' he said, almost in a whisper—'without a word—without a single word. It was left here by a boy—with no letter—no address. Wasn't it cruel?—wasn't it horribly cruel?'
She watched him in dismay.
'Are you sure there was nothing—no letter?'
He shook his head. She released herself, took up the picture, and examined it. Then she shook out the folds of the shawl, the fragments of the brown paper, and still found nothing. But as she took the candle and stooped with it to the floor, something white gleamed. A neatly folded slip of paper had dropped among some torn letters beneath the table. She held it up to him with a cry of delight.