"The firemen rescued him under circumstances of peril," she
answered, "and at his great age he sank under the shock. I have
lost the kindest and best of men. Do you remember how you parted
from him--burned and bruised in saving me? He liked to talk of it
in his last illness. 'At least,' he said to you, 'tell me the name
of the man who preserved my wife from a dreadful death.' You threw
your card to him out of the carriage window, and away you went
at a gallop to catch your train. In all the years that have passed
I have kept that card, and have vainly inquired for my brave
sea-captain. Yesterday I saw your name on the list of speakers at
the Mansion House, Need I say that I attended the meeting? Need I
tell you now why I come here and interrupt you in business hours?"

She held out her hand. Mr. Lismore took it in silence, and pressed
it warmly.

"You have not done with me yet," she resumed, with a smile. "Do
you remember what I said of my errand when I first came in?"

"You said it was an errand of gratitude."

"Something more than the gratitude which only says 'thank you,'"
she added. "Before I explain myself, however, I want to know what
you have been doing, and how it was that my inquiries failed to
trace you after that terrible night." The appearance of depression
which Mrs. Calender had noticed at the public meeting showed itself
again in Mr. Lismore's face. He sighed as he answered her.

"My story has one merit," he said: "it is soon told. I cannot
wonder that you failed to discover me. In the first place, I was not