"Now, who is Miss Evelyn Chandler, and what in thunder did he want me to deliver that absurd message to her for?" he asked of himself, mentally. "Hanged if I know whether I ought to do it or not. If I only knew where he lives, I don't think I should bother about notifying Miss Chandler at all, but as I don't, and the chances very decidedly against me finding out, I had better keep my promise. If Miss Chandler goes there, I might follow her and thereby put myself in possession of the papers with which that man has so often threatened me. Let me see. Why, this is the address of Leonard Chandler, one of the wealthiest men in the city. It can't be that this is his daughter to whom Ben Mauprat has sent a message. It seems to me that there is the promise of something sensational here. At all events it is worth following up. I most decidedly shall keep my promise to Ben and call upon the young lady."
There was no longer any hesitation on the part of the young man, but hailing a passing hansom, he leaped in, gave the address, and went rolling over the cobble-stones as rapidly as the bony horse could carry him.
He glanced up at the massive brown-stone front, before which he was deposited, with considerable surprise.
"What in the name of all that is wonderful could Ben Mauprat have to do with a young woman living in a house like this?" he asked of himself.
Then a smile flitted over his features.
"She is one of the servants," he told himself. "The name is one of those curious accidents with which one often meets. I wonder what the people will think of me for presenting myself at their front door to inquire for a servant? Well, if the worst comes I can excuse myself on the plea of philanthropy. Ha! ha! that is something after the order of the devil quoting Scripture!"
He ran up the stoop and rang the bell loudly.
"Is Miss Evelyn Chandler in?" he asked of the servant.
"Yes, sir. Will you walk in?"
He was ushered into the drawing-room, where the servant stood waiting for his card.