The awful face of the villainous man, who had so frightened Dorothy on
the stairs of the Bugle office, seemed to flash into that room. Could he
be that evil genius?

"Yes, Major Dale," he went on, "you must have heard by this time that a
man waylaid your daughter, grabbed the papers from her hands and tried
to frighten her so that there would be no outcry until he had made his
escape. Well, that man was no other than he who put liquor to my lips
when I was a boy; who took me from my home when I was a husband, and
made me sign papers that would leave my young wife helpless in all the
affairs that she should rightfully control. Not satisfied with this
record of villainy, he, at last, separated me from my wife and daughter,
and though I have searched for years for them, it has all been in vain."

The man stopped. Tears were streaming down his pallid face and the
sorrow of a lifetime seemed about to break the bonds of human endurance.
Major Dale put his hand on the other's shoulder.

"Cheer up, brother," he said, "There may yet be time. Life is with you
still."

"Ah, but have I not searched all this week? And did not that man promise
to take me to them?"

Dorothy had shrunk back when Mr. Burlock said the man who had put terror
in her own life was the same person who had destroyed his happiness.
Then it was as Ralph said,--Miles Burlock did figure in the mysterious
case.

The evening was melting into night. Major Dale was still feeble from his