letter five years ago.” For a moment Mrs. Bryant closed her eyes. Then

she said matter-of-factly, “A five-year-old address and an old snapshot aren’t much to go on, are they? That’s why were relying on Mr. Dorn to locate Lucy for us.”

Mrs. Bryant explained that she and her husband were too elderly, and he too ill, to travel to San Francisco and search for the girl themselves. Also, Mrs. Bryant said, they hesitated to approach Lucy directly, either in person or by mail. “After all the antagonism which my husband--and I, too--showed them, Eleanor and Jack naturally felt antagonistic toward us. I’m afraid some of that feeling may have been instilled in Lucy. She might not be glad to see her grandparents.”

So Marshall Bryant had engaged his law firm to locate young Lucy and bring her East. He planned to transfer a generous part of the inheritance to her immediately. The law firm assigned Thurman Dorn, a young man, to do the traveling and investigating involved in finding Lucy. Mr. Bryant was pleased with the choice. Though Thurman Dorn was relatively new in the firm, his uncle, now dead, had for many years done fine work for Mr. Bryant through the same law firm.

“My husband and I feel we know young Thurman Dorn,” said Mrs. Bryant. “Our lawyers have told us that he came from Chicago, his home town, with the highest recommendation from one of his law school professors.” She mentioned the name of the law firm, Steele and Wilbur. Vicki recognized it as a respected company. “Mr. Dorn has persuaded us to stay entirely in the background and to let him act as intermediary with Lucy. I do think that’s the most discreet way in such a delicate situation.”

_A painful situation for a sick man and his elderly wife_, Vicki thought. She said, “I do hope Mr. Dorn’s search will be successful in every way.”

“Thank you, my dear. Mr. Dorn was in San Francisco three or four weeks ago, and got his search for Lucy under way. Unfortunately he could not find her on that trip--she has been away--but perhaps he has some other leads or news to tell us about today.”

“Oh! Do you think he’ll bring Lucy with him?”

Mrs. Bryant smiled shakily. “I’m afraid to hope for so much. Let’s go find my husband. He’s feeling anxious, too.”

When Thurman Dorn arrived a few minutes later, he was alone. Vicki was impressed by his air of professional competence, and by his personal dignity. He was about twenty-seven, a formal, cool young man, evidently highly educated, very correct in his manners and attire. His meticulously tailored gray suit, his British-looking mustache, the stiff way he stood, reminded Vicki of a fashion plate. Or perhaps of a stone statue. She wished someone less formal, less unsentimental were to bridge the gap between young Lucy Rowe and her grandparents. Well, perhaps it took someone as cool, deliberate, and as obviously hard-headed as Mr. Dorn to trace Lucy in the first place. Vicki could see how highly Marshall Bryant valued this young lawyer.

Mrs. Bryant introduced Vicki and Thurman Dorn. He said “how do you do” to her with a delightful little bow and smile, and remarked--when Mrs. Bryant said, “Vicki Barr is a flight stewardess with Federal Airlines”--that he was an air-travel enthusiast. However, he quickly turned away, and had little further to say to Vicki during lunch. She was sure that Mrs. Bryant’s mention of her work did not interest him and probably never registered with him at all.

He was busy describing to Mr. Bryant--and to Mrs. Bryant, too, though secondarily--the progress of the search for Lucy in San Francisco.

“Now, Mr. Bryant, and Mrs. Bryant, you already know that this search is not proceeding as easily and quickly as we would wish,” Thurman Dorn said. “Reaching Miss Lucy takes time and patience. So will effecting a reconciliation.”

The elderly couple listened to him, their hopes visibly rising and falling as he spoke.

“You know that I made only partial progress when, at your request, I visited San Francisco for a week, and personally conducted a search for your granddaughter.”

“I remember receiving your bills from the St. Clair Hotel,” Mr. Bryant said dryly.

Young Dorn accepted this with a deferential smile. “And unfortunately I had to come back and tell you the disappointing news that by the time I had located Lucy’s present home and work addresses, she had just gone off for a trip. For, I believe, a month or more.”

Mrs. Bryant turned toward Vicki. “At least Mr. Dorn learned that Lucy has gone traveling with respectable friends, another girl and the girl’s mother.”

Mr. Bryant looked up from serving himself seconds from the dish the maid offered. “Well, sir, it’s about a month now since you’ve been out there. You say Lucy will be back in San Francisco soon. How soon can you go out there again, and get on with this job?”

“Very soon, I hope, sir,” Dorn said. “Although it would be a waste of my time and your money to wait around San Francisco until Miss Lucy returns.”

“Don’t see how a girl who you say is a secretary can afford to stay away longer than a month,” Marshall Bryant grumbled. “Dorn, are you certain that this Lucy Rowe is actually our granddaughter?”

“No, I’m not certain. It’s only a reasonable _presumption_ at this point, Mr. Bryant. Let me actually see and talk to the girl. I want to question her--yes, discreetly--about certain particulars of the Bryant family history, which she would be likely to know. I want to see whether she has any of your old letters, or photographs of yourselves or your daughter Eleanor. That brings me to my reason, or one of the reasons, for asking you to let me come today.”

“The name Lucy Rowe isn’t so unusual,” Mr. Bryant interrupted. “Might be more than one girl by that name in a city as large as San Francisco.”

“Exactly my view, too, sir,” said Mr. Dorn. “You have told me many details of the family history and shown me documents, but a few questions occur to me. Also, it would help in proving _this_ Lucy Rowe’s identity if you could let me really study those documents, and study any letters in your daughter Eleanor’s handwriting or any family photographs. If you happen to have any available that I could examine, say, overnight--or for a few hours this afternoon--”

“Good idea,” said Marshall Bryant. “Plenty of those things in the safe, right here in the house. I’ll lend them to you overnight or for a day or two. Whatever you say.”

“That will be a help,” said Mr. Dorn. “I’ll return them to you promptly.”

One thing puzzled Vicki. Why had no one at the luncheon table mentioned Jack Rowe, the girl’s father? She murmured her question to Mrs. Bryant.

“Because Lucy’s father died two years ago in an auto accident,” Mrs. Bryant answered her. “Lucy did not write and tell us. Lucy has never written to us, except one or two Christmas letters when she was a child--which my husband asked me not to answer.” Mrs. Bryant sighed. “So we had no way of knowing about Jack until Mr. Dorn investigated and reported to us about three weeks ago. I’m sorry about Jack, if only because his passing has left Lucy entirely alone in the world.”

“She has you and her grandfather,” Vicki said.

“_If_ we can find her, and _if_ she can forget old difficulties. However”--the elderly woman brightened--“on the basis of what he’s already learned, Mr. Dorn is hopeful that everything will work out well.” Then she said, “Oh, Mr. Dorn! Didn’t you say you had some further word about Lucy?”

“Yes, Mrs. Bryant. I’ve had a letter from one of her friends whom I was unable to meet in person. Her friend writes that Lucy is an accomplished swimmer and horsewoman. You know how Californians go in for sports and outdoor living. Her friend also wrote my firm--sorry I forgot to bring the letter--that Miss Lucy is fond of birds and knows something about them.”

“She’ll be interested in your parakeets,” Mr. Bryant said to his wife, “and she’ll enjoy the swimming pool.”

“Let’s hope so. We old people might be dull company for her. She sounds like a delightful girl, Mr. Dorn.”

The lawyer said, “From everything I’ve learned so far, she sounds like a charming girl, and a girl of considerable character.”

Marshall Bryant looked gratified, while his wife looked so eager that Vicki felt almost afraid for her. How every detail which Mr. Dorn was able to supply increased their desire to meet their granddaughter! How disappointed they would be if Lucy were not all they wanted her to be, or if--Heaven forbid--Dorn could not locate their granddaughter after all.

As they were rising from the dining table Mrs. Bryant reminded the lawyer about the silver ring. “If you want another look at it, it’s in the safe, too.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bryant. I _will_ examine it again. It will be interesting to learn whether Lucy Rowe still has the silver ring which is twin to yours.”

“Now, young man, how soon are you going back to San Francisco?” Mr. Bryant pressed him. “How about this week?”

The lawyer was inclined to wait until the next week, in order to be sure that Lucy Rowe was back in San Francisco. He offered to telegraph her employers and friends there to learn if and when she had returned. This was reasonable, the Bryants had to agree, but they were disappointed about the delay.

“I am sorry about the delay, too,” said the lawyer, “but let us make haste slowly. Let’s be a little cautious and discreet. There is a large inheritance involved here, you _are_ well known, and if any false moves were made, they’d invite a lot of publicity--newspaper stories, pictures in the paper, and so forth.”

Mr. Bryant made a gesture of distaste, while Mrs. Bryant pretended to shudder. There was a moment’s awkwardness. The lawyer turned to Vicki and said:

“I understand that you--ah--were of service to Mr. Bryant yesterday when he was taken ill.”

“Not at all,” said Vicki. “I’m just sorry Mr. Bryant didn’t feel well enough to enjoy his flight on the Electra. Mr. Dorn, when you fly out to the West Coast do you go on the Electra, via Chicago?”

She said it only to make conversation, thinking someday Dorn might be one of her passengers. But suddenly his expression changed. She was surprised at the odd look on his face. Was he thinking of something else?

Mrs. Bryant said, “I believe, Mr. Dorn, you told us your mother still lives in Chicago?”

“Yes, I sometimes go home week ends to see her. Very occasionally.”

“Of course. Well--I think my husband is waiting to see you.”

“Oh, yes. Will you excuse me, Mrs. Bryant? Miss--ah--” He had forgotten her name. The young lawyer followed Mr. Bryant into the library.

Vicki felt that it was time to say good-by to her hostess. But Mrs. Bryant led her back into the room with the parakeets. By now the sun had moved to the far end of the room, and the birds were asleep. Mrs. Bryant took Vicki’s hand.

“I hope all this talk about our granddaughter wasn’t dull for you.”

“On the contrary, Mrs. Bryant! I couldn’t help thinking ‘Suppose it were _my_ grandparents whom I’d never seen, who were looking for me--’”

“You’re sympathetic, Vicki. I wonder--You’re going to be in San Francisco often?” Vicki nodded. “Then I wonder whether I could ask you to do me a great favor--but only if it won’t take too much of your time.”

Vicki said, and meant it, that if the favor had anything to do with Lucy, she would be only too happy to give it her free time.

Mrs. Bryant smiled. “Then I wish very much that you’d see whether _you_ can learn anything further about our granddaughter. While I have every confidence in Mr. Dorn and his careful, discreet approach, this delay is very hard. Even another week or ten days seem such a long time to wait.”

“I’ll be in San Francisco day after tomorrow,” Vicki said.

“Wonderful. If Lucy is back by then, won’t you try to telephone her and give her my love? All I have is her last address in Sutro Heights in the suburbs, it’s five years old--I think Mr. Dorn mentioned that she had moved in with friends in the city, in order to be nearer her place of employment. I wish I had thought to write down that firm name, but we are leaving everything, all the details, to Mr. Dorn.”

“Do you think Mr. Dorn will consider that I’m interfering? I wouldn’t want to cause any--any complications for him.”

“I don’t see how you could.” Mrs. Bryant went to her desk for Lucy’s last address, and copied it for Vicki. “It might be more tactful, though, not to let Mr. Dorn know that you are taking part.” Vicki agreed. “And let’s not mention it to my husband, either,” Mrs. Bryant said with a gleam of mischief. “Here’s the address, my dear. Thank you very, very much.”

“Don’t say that yet, Mrs. Bryant. First, let’s see what I can do.”

She thanked Mrs. Bryant for her hospitality, and said good-by. Mrs. Bryant walked to the front door with Vicki, and stood looking after her as she went down the marble steps. She looked so hopeful and yet afraid to hope that Vicki thought:

“I’m going to do everything I can to help those two old people.”