“You have been having a hard time I fear, Lucy.”

“Outwardly it was sometimes hard, but there was always that wonderful inner path to happiness—­you know it, John.”

“And you never lost your confidence in God?”

“If I had, I should have come to you.  Did I ever do so?  No, I waited until God sent you to me.  When I first went to Him about this anxiety, He made me a promise.  God keeps his promises.”

“Now I am going to look for Harry.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I know where the house he frequents is.”

“Suppose they will not let you see him?”

“I am going to Scotland Yard first.”

“Why?”

“For a constable to go with me.”

“You will be kind to Harry?”

“As you are kind to little Agnes.  I may have to strip my words for him and make them very plain, but when that is done I will comfort and help him.  Will you sleep and rest and be sure all is well with Harry?”

“As soon as my girl returns, I will do as you tell me.  Tomorrow I—­”

“Let us leave tomorrow.  It will have its own help and blessing, but neither is due until tomorrow.  We have not used up all today’s blessing yet.  Good-bye, little sister!  Sleeping or waking, dream of the happiness coming to you and your children.”

It was only after two hours of delays and denials that John was able to locate his brother.  Lugur had given him the exact location of the house, but the man at the door constantly denied Harry’s presence.  It was a small, dull, inconspicuous residence, but John felt acutely its sinister character, many houses having this strange power of revealing the inner life that permeates them.  The man obtained at Scotland Yard was well acquainted with the premises, but at first appeared to be either ignorant or indifferent and only answered John’s questions in monosyllables until John said,

“If you can take me to my brother, I will give you a pound.”

Then there was a change.  The word “pound” went straight to his nervous center, and he became intelligent and helpful.

“When the door is opened again,” he said, “walk inside.  There is a long passage going backward, and a room at the end of that passage.  The kid you want will be in that room.”

“You will go with me?”

“Why not?  They all know me.”

“Tell them my name is John Hatton.”

“I don’t need to say a word.  I have ways of putting up my hand which they know, and obey.  Ring the bell.  I’ll give the doorman the word to pass you in.  Walk forward then and you’ll find your young man, as I told you, in the room at the end of the passage.  I’ll bet on it.  I shall be close behind you, but do your own talking.”