His wife is dead, he is
alone in the world, and he is ready to forgive her and care for her, if
she needs it."
"He hasn't hurried himself about it, has he?" said Quincy; "but why did
he come to you?"
"That's the strange part of it," Alice replied, "He said he
thoughtlessly picked up a magazine at a hotel where he was staying, and
his eye fell upon my story, How He Lost Both Name and Fortune. He read
it, and sought me out, to ask if it were fiction, or whether it was
founded on some true incident. He was quite disappointed when I told him
it was entirely a work of the imagination."
"Did he say what hotel?" asked Quincy.
"No," replied Alice; "but why are you so interested in a total
stranger?"
Then Quincy told the story of the broken envelope--the little piece of
cloth--and the name, Linda Fernborough.
"I must find him at once," said he, "for I have an impression that his
daughter must have been Lindy Putnam's real mother. You gave me my
reward, Alice, before my quest was successful, but I gave my word to
find her for you, and I shall not consider myself fully worthy of you
till that word is kept.
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