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"Title!" exclaimed Mrs. Avery, in great surprise.

"Yes. This boy I believe to be the only son of the late Sir Charles Fenwick, of Fenwick Hall, Gloucestershire, England."

"Well, well!" ejaculated Mrs. Avery. "Then if the boy had his rights would he be Sir Jed Gilman?"

"No," answered the detective smiling. "He has no more claim to the name Jed Gilman than I have."

"What is his real name?"

"Robert Fenwick, as I have every reason to believe."

"Why has there been no search for him till now?"

"There has been a search covering all the intervening years; but the mother, who is still living, had no information to guide her, and the search has been a groping in the dark."

"And did the wicked uncle get the title and estate?" asked Mrs. Avery.

"Yes. He is enjoying both now."

"Is it a large estate?"

"It would not be considered large in England. Probably it amounts to five thousand pounds annual rental."

"Five thousand pounds!" said Mrs. Avery.

"Yes, or in our money about twenty-five thousand dollars."

"And this large estate ought to belong to poor Jed?"

"I submit that, if so, he will not need to be called poor Jed."

"And you say that the mother is living?"

"She is living, and in New York. She is comfortably established at the Windsor Hotel on Fifth Avenue. It is by her that I am employed. This is my card."

He drew out a small card bearing the name James Peake.

"Yes. I am an American," he said in reply to a question by Mrs. Avery. "I am a New York detective, and was detailed for this work by Inspector Byrnes."

"What sort of a person is Jed's mother?" asked Mrs. Avery.

"Still a beautiful woman , though she can not be far from forty years of age."

"Does she look like the picture in the locket?"

"There is considerable resemblance -- of course, making allowance for the difference in the ages of the two. This locket, Mrs. Avery, is most important, and will, I think, establish the identity of Jed Gilman with the stolen heir of the Fenwick estate. Will you permit me to take it and show it to Lady Fenwick?"

"Has she a title, too?"

"Certainly. She was the wife of Sir Charles Fenwick."

"And what is the name of the wicked uncle?"

"Guy Fenwick. He is known as Sir Guy Fenwick, but probably, almost positively, has no rightful claim to the title."

"Does he know that you are looking for his nephew?"

"I presume he has taken measures to keep acquainted with all the movements of Lady Fenwick."

"I wonder how the girl came to give the boy the name of Jed Gilman?"

"I think I can explain this. The name of this treacherous nursemaid was Jane Gilman. She selected a name as near to her own as possible. You say you have neither seen nor heard anything of this girl since Jed was left in your hands?"

"We have heard nothing whatever."

At this moment there was a ring at the door-bell -- a sharp, quick, impatient ring. Mrs. Avery answered it. She came back, her face showing excitement.

"It is a woman of middle age," she said, "and she, too, has come to make inquiries about Jed Gilman."

The detective also looked excited.

"Do you think," he asked, "it can be Jane Gilman herself come back after all these years?"

"That's it!" said Mrs. Avery, her face lighting up. "I wondered where I had seen her face before. Now, though she is so much older, I recognize in this middle-aged woman the girl who brought Jed to the door fourteen years ago."

"Bring her in here, hear what she has to say, and place me somewhere, so that, myself unseen, I can hear what she says." This was what the detective said in a quick, decided tone.

"Very well, sir, go in there. It is a small bedroom. You can keep the door ajar."

The detective lost no time in concealing himself. The woman came in. She was a stout, florid-complexioned woman, rather showily dressed, with the look of an Englishwoman of the middle class.

Before we proceed to record the interview that took place between Mr. and Mrs. Avery and herself we must go back again to the poorhouse, and our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Fogson.

Twenty minutes after the departure of James Peake, the detective, this woman knocked at the door of the poorhouse. Her summons was answered by Mrs. Fogson.

"What's wanted?" asked the poorhouse matron, looking inquisitively at the new arrival

"Is there a boy named Jed Gilman living here?" asked the woman eagerly.

"Jed Gilman again!" repeated Mrs. Fogson. "What do you want of Jed Gilman?"

"Answer my question first, if you please."

"Such a boy was living here till lately, but he became very troublesome and finally ran away."

"Then he is not here now?" said the woman, looking very much disappointed.

"No, but I expect he'll have to come back some time. A bad penny generally returns. You haven't told me what you have to do with him?"

"Then I will tell you. I was the person who brought him here fourteen years ago."

"You don't say so?" ejaculated Mrs. Fogson, her little bead-like eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Was he your child?"