both disappeared.

"Could the doctor have given them into Mrs. Dornham's charge?" asked the
earl.

"No," replied the rector--"I should say certainly not. I am quite sure
that Mrs. Dornham did not even know the child's surname. I remember once
asking her about it; she said it was a long name, and that she could
never remember it. If she had had the papers, she would have read them.
I cannot think she holds them."

Then they went to visit Mrs. Galbraith, the doctor's housekeeper. She
had a distinct recollection of the box--it used to stand on the
sideboard, and a large-sized family Bible generally lay on the top of
it. How long it had been out of sight when the doctor died she did not
know, but she had never seen it since. Then they drove to the bank,
thinking that, perhaps, for greater security, he might have deposited it
there. No such thing had been heard of. Plainly enough, the papers had
disappeared; both the earl and the rector were puzzled.

"They can be of no possible use to any one but myself," said Lord
Mountdean. "Now that my poor father is dead and cannot be distressed
about it, I shall tell the whole world--if it cares to listen--the story
of my marriage. If I had wanted to keep that or the birth of my child a
secret, I could have understood the papers being stolen by one wishing
to trade with them. As it is, I cannot see that they are of the least
use to any one except myself."

They gave up the search at last, and then Lord Mountdean devoted himself
to the object--the finding of his child.