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had taken the locket in question out of his coat-pocket and opened it, extracting the folded paper it contained. This latter he smoothed out for it was a mass of creases, from having been crushed into so small a receptacle.

"'To the kind friend who finds my child,' it starts," said Jack impressively. "'Her name is Jeanne Anstey. I am her wretched and dying mother, dying for my beloved France. It is the Boche who has done this. They came at daylight, and burned the poor cottage in which we have been making our home.

"'That terrible man was here with them as before, mounted on his horse, and with all his trappings. His name it is Anton von Berthold. and he is my half-brother. To my face he boasted, knowing that I was surely dying, that through Helene he meant some day to claim our estate in Lorraine, where there are deposits of iron that will be worth millions of francs yearly.