"Mr. Wittleworth, I was in one of the cholera hospitals of Paris at the time that child died--I think you said ten years ago."
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Fitz. "It was ten years ago last August."
"Do you know in what hospital the child was placed?" asked André, with breathless interest.
"I do not, but my mother does. She has a letter written to her by the present Mrs. Checkynshaw, in which she informed her that Marguerite had died in the hospital. But Checkynshaw looked the matter up afterwards; and he says the child did not die; that she was taken away by the Sisters of Charity. That was all bosh."
"Certainly; you can walk over to my house and see her if you like."
"I do not ask from an idle curiosity," added André. "The foreign residents in Paris were generally taken to the same hospital, in the Rue Lacépède. I was then the valet of an English gentleman, who died there of cholera. While I was there--for, after the death of my employer, I was engaged as a kind of interpreter for the English patients who did not speak French--the _Hôpital des Enfants Malades_ was full, and a portion of our establishment was devoted to foreign children. I well remember two children of the name of Margaret; and I have reason to remember them;" and André glanced tenderly at Maggie. "One of them died, and the other is my Maggie."
"But what was the other name of the one that died?" asked Fitz, nervously.
"Marguerite Chuckingham. I suppose there were other Marguerites there; but I did not know them. They could not find the dead child's parents; they were dead themselves. I would like to see your mother's letter," added André.
Accepting Fitz's invitation, the barber and his daughter walked over to "his house," and were introduced to Mrs. Wittleworth. André repeated his story about the two Marguerites, and she was quite as much interested in it as her son had been.
"I have the letter," said she. "I thought the property was mine, and that the letter might be of use to me; so I have carefully preserved it."
She went to the bureau, and produced the letter. It contained a pitiful account of the sufferings of Mrs. Checkynshaw during the cholera season, and the announcement of little Marguerite's death at the hospital in the Rue Lacépède.