THE Admiral and the Lieutenant searched Washington quickly yet thoroughly, for the man who was supposed to have the fateful letter in his possession was prominent enough to have his every movement observed and recorded by the newspapers and discussed by the clubs. No one at Washington had seen him or heard of him since his departure for Old Point.

"Let us hope, dear boy," said the Admiral, as the disappointed and weary men lunched together, "that he has gone to the Pacific Coast to develop that placer, for no one out there will take any interest in that unfortunate note."

"I should be glad to hope so," Jermyn replied, "but suppose that he has gone to New York? That is his usual base of operations, and should he have the letter, and meet in New York some one who knows me, it would be just like him to show the letter and talk about it."

"I shall at once go to New York, find him, if he is there, and stop him," said the Admiral.

"But, Admiral——"

"But me no buts, my dear boy. I assure you that if it weren't for my humiliation at having been a thoughtless old donkey I'd enjoy the job almost as well as if I were in active service and in chase of an enemy. A chase will do me good—keep me from rusting, you know."

"But, Admiral, you were having a delightful time at the Point; there was a host of your friends and old comrades there, and they will soon be going away. I've three days' leave of absence, and no farther use to make of it here. Still more, I'm the party most at interest, you know."

"But I'm the one most at fault," persisted the Admiral. It was finally agreed that there should be a division of labor, the Admiral returning to Old Point, where he might learn from some one the destination of the supposed custodian of the letter, while Jermyn should hurry to New York, where it would not be very hard to find the wanted man if he were there.

The Lieutenant had not been long in the metropolis before he learned that even a man known throughout the nation could not easily be found in a city as large as New York. He first went to a club where some old acquaintances were so glad to see him that he had hard work in getting away from them. They all knew by name and reputation the man he was looking for and congratulated Jermyn on having any excuse for seeing a man who had made the fortunes of a dozen other men while making his own, but of the man's whereabouts they were as ignorant as Jermyn himself. Then Jermyn made the rounds of the principal hotels, but he found that their number had trebled since his own period of duty near New York, ten years earlier, and he began to think seriously of applying for an additional leave of absence for three days, on the ground of urgent and unexpected personal business.

He was so weary at the end of a single day's search, that he had not the heart to go to club or theatre, so he dined dismally and alone at Delmonico's, and then sauntered over to Madison Square, dropped upon a bench, and blamed the trees for not being as fully in leaf as those he had left in the South, three hundred miles away.

Suddenly a gentleman arose from a bench near by, walked to and fro two or three times, stopped in front of the lonely officer, and said:

"I beg your pardon, sir, but aren't you Lieutenant Jermyn, of the artillery service?"

"Mr. Highwood!" exclaimed Jermyn, springing to his feet, and extending his hand, "this is rare good fortune for me."

"And for me," replied Phil; "for you are the only person I know who has seen my family within a week, and I'm as lonesome without that family as you can ever have been at the smallest post you ever served at. Take pity on a poor fellow, and tell me all you can."

"Your loss is their gain," said Jermyn, when both had seated themselves. "I never saw Mrs. Highwood looking better. As for your daughter, she is one of the most engaging young women I ever met, except her mother, whom she greatly resembles. Miss Wardlow, whom Mrs. Highwood told me was in poor health when she left New York, is simply radiant; she is the beauty of the Point, although she doesn't seem to know it. They all talk of you a great deal; to hear Miss Trixy is to believe you the only man on the face of the earth."

"Bless her!" said Phil. "By the way, there are some neighbors of ours there, I believe—the Trewmans. Have you chanced to meet them?"

As he asked this question, Phil looked sidewise at his companion, and was sure, despite the uncertain light of an electric lamp, that the officer's face colored a little. But Jermyn replied, in his ordinary tone:

"Delightful people—delightful! By the way, I've a suspicion that you're in danger of losing your sister-in-law; at least as a member of your immediate family. Mr. Trewman is devotion itself, and although the young lady has many admirers, Mr. Trewman seems to be the favored one."

"Ah! Well, I don't know that either of them could do better. They are already very well acquainted, and Fenie is quite fond of Harry's sister, whom I imagine does not disapprove of the match."

Jermyn did not reply, so Highwood continued to talk about the Trewmans, and particularly about Kate; and Jermyn replied briefly, from time to time, speaking of Kate so admiringly, yet guardedly, that Phil began to wonder whether the officer had not been making love with traditional military haste, and had his suit discouraged. Being too good a man to persist in talking of a subject regarding which his companion felt any reason for restraint, he hastened to change the subject, and the two men were soon engaged in general chat. Phil soon asked:

"How long shall you remain in the city, Mr. Jermyn? Or perhaps you are to be on duty here?"

"Only on personal business, which may take three or four days."

"Good! I'll try to see that your spare time passes pleasantly. Several new military pictures are to be exhibited at my club, and I'll be glad to have you see them, if you find the time. I received several invitations in blank to-day; let me give you one."

Phil drew some papers from his pocket, and began to search for the invitations, holding his letters and other papers so that the light might strike them fairly. Suddenly he was conscious of a start. He looked up inquiringly, and saw Jermyn gazing intently at a letter which Phil held in his hand.

"Ah?" said Phil, quickly, "apparently you recognize this picture. Perhaps you can tell me what it is. It has puzzled me not a little, for it is on the back of a letter from my wife, who sketches a little, but this sketch is not in her style."

"It reminds me," replied Jermyn deliberately, and with a visible affectation of carelessness, "of a bit of far Western scenery, which I used to know quite well, having been there on duty."

Jermyn wished he could be alone a moment—wished he were a boy again, and in the centre of a great field or forest, where he could give a great, joyous shout. That missing letter! It had reached rightful hands at last—but how? He must telegraph the Admiral at once; how delighted the dear old fellow would be! Still, how in the name of all that was mysterious, had the tormenting screed found its way to the man to whom it was written? There was no address, nor even name, on the paper when he glanced at it in the fort, so the man for whom the sketches were made could not have known to whom it belonged.

"When did you receive the sketch, Mr. Highwood?" Jermyn asked. "Perhaps there is an artist at the Point, of whom I have not heard."

"It came this morning," Phil replied, hoping at the same time that his face was not telling of what was running in his mind. What would the man beside him think if he could know the contents of the letter? "It was evidently begun on one day and finished on another, for there are hints in it of a story which Mrs. Highwood will tell me when she reaches home. She is a dear, good wife, but she does hate to write a longer letter than is absolutely necessary."

"I wonder that she gets time to write at all," said Jermyn, "for she is in great demand. She has probably written you that she has met several old acquaintances; nice people from everywhere seem to gravitate toward Old Point."

Then Jermyn lapsed into such deep thought about that letter, and the ways in which it might have got back to its owner, that he almost forgot that he was not alone.

"What can be the matter with the fellow?" wondered Highwood. "If Trif were almost any other woman in the world, I would think that there was some mystery in which she and he were mutually interested. I shall write her before I sleep, and ask her all about it; I don't know when in my life I've been so curious about anything."

"By the way, Mr. Highwood," said Jermyn, with the idea that he might get some clue to the course of the letter, "I ought to tell you that your daughter is flirting most outrageously with one of the finest gentlemen at the Point. He is a retired admiral—Allison—perhaps you may have heard his name?"

"Heard of him?" echoed Phil; "all Americans are proud of him. That isn't all; he acted as Trixy's amanuensis a day or two ago, and I suspect that some of the funny things in the letter which I received were devised by him; I've played that trick myself with Trixy's missives at times."

"Possibly you are right," was the reply, "for he is as full of fun as any one I know."

"Perhaps the Admiral was the artist who drew that sketch?" Phil suggested.

"H'm! No, I think not. I know his style."

"Would you mind asking him on your return?" persisted Phil.

"Not in the least. I probably shall see him to-morrow night, and——"

"What! Is he, too, coming to New York?"

"Oh, no. He had intended to come, but I came instead."

"But how can you see him to-morrow night?"

"Easily. I shall take the morning train, which will get me to the fort by nine o'clock, at the latest."

"Excuse me, but didn't I understand you to say that you would be here several days?"

"Er—I had intended to remain several days, but I've had the bad manners to think occasionally about business while we've been talking, and something has come to mind which will compel my return at once. 'Tis a mean thing to admit, but greatly though I've enjoyed meeting you here—and I assure you that I never in my life met any one more gladly—my personal business, which brought me here, has persisted in popping into my head. I left the fort in great haste—so great that I left some of the threads of my business behind me."

Phil Highwood was a gentleman, so he detested any one who pried into the private affairs of others, but for a moment he wished himself a mind-reader, or hypnotist, or something of the sort. Meanwhile, Jermyn, who felt that he must be alone, said:

"Won't you honor me with some message to your family?"

"Tell my wife to write me who drew that sketch, please?"

The two men separated, and Jermyn hurried up Broadway, feeling younger than he had at any time in the last ten years.