this girl. One glimpse at her real history would do more towards
setting us on the right track than anything else you could offer."

Her face assumed an unmistakable frown. "Have I not told you," said
she, "what is known of it? That she came to me about two years ago
for work; that I liked her, and so hired her; that she has been with
us ever since and--"

"Then you will not tell us?" exclaimed Mr. Gryce.

Her face fell and a look of hesitation crossed it.

"I doubt if we can do anything unless you do," continued he.

Her countenance settled again into a resolved expression.

"You are mistaken," said she; "if the girl had a secret--as nearly all
girls have, brought low as she has evidently been--it had nothing to
do with her disappearance, nor would a knowledge of it help you in
any way. I am confident of this and so shall hold my peace."

She was not a woman to be frightened or cajoled into making
revelations she did not think necessary, and seeing it, Mr. Gryce
refrained from urging her further.

"However, you will at least tell me this," said he, "what were the
knick-knacks she took away with her from her bureau drawer?"

"No," said she, "for they have nothing to do with her abduction. They
were articles of positive value to her, though I assure you of little