to write is very much alike, for this is the stage of development when
they 'print.' And their composition is the same: they talk only of
things that interest all children--pets, toys, and their games. This
is only ANY child's letter to ANY father. I couldn't really say it WAS
Bobby's. As to the photograph, they have an odd way in South America
of selling photographs of anybody, principally of pretty women, by the
packet, to any one who wants them. So that it does not follow that the
owner of this photograph had any personal interest in it. Now, as to
your mysterious patron himself, can you describe him?" She looked at
Randolph with a certain feline intensity.

He became embarrassed. "You know I only saw him once, under a street
lamp"--he began.

"And I have only seen Captain Dornton--if it were he--twice in three
years," she said. "But go on."

Again Randolph was unpleasantly impressed with her cold, dryly practical
manner. He had never seen his benefactor but once, but he could not
speak of him in that way.

"I think," he went on hesitatingly, "that he had dark, pleasant eyes, a
thick beard, and the look of a sailor."

"And there were no other papers in the portmanteau?" she said, with the
same intense look.

"None."

"These are mere coincidences," said Miss Avondale, after a pause, "and,