In a few days the story of his marriage was told by every newspaper in
the land; also the history of the strange disappearance of his child.
Large rewards were offered to any one who could bring the least
information. Not content with employing the best detective skill in
England, he conducted the search himself. He worked unwearyingly.

"A man, woman, and child could not possibly disappear from the face of
the earth without leaving some trace behind," he would say.

One little gleam of light came, which filled him with hope--they found
that Margaret Dornham had sold all her furniture to a broker living at a
town called Wrentford. She had sent for him herself, and had asked him
to purchase it, saying that she, with her husband, was going to live at
a distance, and that they did not care about taking it with them. He
remembered having asked her where she was going, but she evaded any
reply. He could tell no more. He showed what he had left of the
furniture and tears filled Lord Mountdean's eyes as he saw among it a
child's crib. He liberally rewarded the man, and then set to work with
renewed vigor to endeavor to find out Margaret Dornham's destination.

He went to the railway stations; and, though the only clew he succeeded
in obtaining was a very faint one, he had some reason for believing that
Margaret Dornham had gone to London.

In that vast city he continued the search, until it really seemed that
every inch of ground had been examined. It was all without
result--Margaret Dornham and her little foster-child seemed to have
vanished.