"Ah, is that so? He is dead, then. Oh, but I did meet him, Mr. Hench. Some twenty years back--it was in Buda Pesth. I remember it all"--she pressed her jewelled fingers to her forehead--"it all comes back to me."     

       "Tell us about it, then," suggested Spruce eagerly. "Bah!"       said Hench rather rudely, "it's all imagination."     

       "Indeed it is not," protested Madame, gesticulating. "If it were so, how would I know that Rhaiadr meant a waterfall and was in Wales, a country I know nothing about? Owain of Rhaiadr!--that is what your father called himself."     

       "Owain is my Christian name, and was my father's before me. But we don't live in the Middle Ages, when a man was known by his first name being connected with a town, or village, or county, or country. Owain Hench of Rhaiadr, if you like, Madame."     

       The woman shook her head and her eyes sparkled like diamonds. "Ah, but it is not so. Owain of Rhaiadr was what your father said. I remember we were sitting on the terrace of the hotel, and feeling ill, he sought my sympathy. Ah, my friend, and more than my sympathy. He wished to marry me."     

       "Marry you!" Hench stared at the withered old woman in amazement.     

       "Why not? I was a handsome young widow in those days and had some money. Afterwards I lost it, being unlucky at cards."     

       "Well, let us hope that to make up for your loss you were lucky in love," said Spruce affably.     

       "No! I did not wish to marry again, as I was devoted to the memory of my English husband. But I liked your father, Mr. Hench, even though I       refused to become his wife. He was not rich, you understand, so it was useless for me to marry a poor man. But I liked him because he was well-bred and sympathetic in many ways. How it all comes back to me. I told him of my daughter, who was with her nurse in the gardens below the terrace, and he informed me that he had a son of four or five, who was in England being looked after by strangers."     

       "By strangers," echoed Hench bitterly; "that is true. All my life I have had to do with strangers."     

       "Ah, but, my friend, it was not the fault of 

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