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
illness and his daughter, quick to see the look of pain on his loved
face, determined to stop the story for the time being.
"You must lie down, father," she said, putting her arm about him, "You
know the doctor said to be very careful."
With a promptness that bespoke good breeding the visitor arose.
"Pray pardon me," he said politely. "I have been very selfish. I will
not disturb you longer. I will come again to-morrow."
"We will be very glad, indeed, to help you, if we can," the major
replied, rather faintly, for Dorothy had not spoken a moment too soon
for his comfort.
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