"You cannot see her until I have caught the thieves and restored the property or come to you and admit that I have failed."
The old man appeared dazed and Ike said:
"Tell me your story. Yon can trust me."
"I believe I can," said the old man; "I will. I have admitted that my name is Sidney, and that I am a brother of the Sidney who went to California. I went to South America and while there met a young American girl, the daughter of the United States consul. She became my wife and one child was born to us; but alas! my wife died, carried off by fever, ere the child was a year old, and from that moment I devoted my life to my daughter. I am of humble birth, and I set to work to accumulate a great fortune for my child. I brought out masters from Europe to educate her. She was beautiful, amiable, bright and accomplished, and I was happy. But alas! death came stealing along one night and wrapped its cold arms around my child, and I laid her beside her mother. From that moment I lost all ambition, all interest in life. I had heard many years previously that my brother was dead. I had never heard of his marriage and did not suppose he had left a child. Strange fate! I live, but my child is gone; he has gone and his child lives. I converted all my wealth into bonds, money, jewels and securities, and I came home to America. They call me a miser, alas! In my own way, secretly, I have been aiding the poor and needy for twenty-odd years. The portrait you see is a portrait of my child. In the South, you know, girls mature very fast. She was but thirteen when she died. Well, I have had no interest in life. I fear nothing, I have cared for nothing. I have only been waiting for death to come and claim me. His visit has been long delayed and now my wealth is gone. I did not care, but now I do care, for if you are not deceiving me I would have had something for the child of my brother; and you say she resembles the portrait. Well, when my brother and I were boys we greatly resembled each other. And now listen to me: I accept your gage. I will not ask to see my niece until you have made good your promise; either you shall recover my fortune or you shall come to me and say you have failed."
"It will be strange if I ever come to you and say that I have failed. You can trust me. I seek no reward, but I believe I can recover your fortune, and now I have a double motive for doing so."
There came a quick, searching glance to the old man's eyes, but he said nothing until after an interval, when he declared:
"Recover the fortune and you shall not complain of your reward."
"Have you talked much to the detectives?"
"I have not, because until now I was indifferent."
"If I can secure the slightest clue I will promise success. Have you any recollection of the appearance of either of the men?"