It was on the very evening that Orion and Diana had left the great circus that Uncle William and the two children arrived at Delaney Manor, for Delaney Manor was only five miles distant from the prosperous seaside town of Madersley.

Now, Uncle Ben had very little idea, when he brought the two children to the southwest of England, that he was really taking them back to their native country. These things, however, are ordered, and the wisest man in the world cannot go against the leadings of Providence. Uncle Ben thought to hide the children from their best friends, whereas, in reality, he was taking them home once more.

But two little circus children might wander about at their own sweet will at Madersley, and be heard nothing whatever of at Delaney Manor, and these little children might never have been found, and this story might have had a totally different ending, but for Fortune.

When Fortune, however, lay down on her mattress by Iris' side, she thought a great deal before she went to sleep. She thought, as she expressed it to herself, all round the subject, to the right of it, and to the left of it. She thought of it in its breadth, and she thought of it in its height, and, having finally settled the matter to her own satisfaction, she went to sleep,
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and soothed little Iris with the comforting music of her snores.

On the following morning she had an interview with Mr. Dolman.

"I want to ask you a straight question, sir," she said. "What is it the police are doing? It seems a mighty strange thing to me that two little children should be lost in the middle of a civilized country like England."

"It seems a stranger thing to me," replied Uncle William. "I am dreadfully puzzled over the whole matter. We have now four detectives at work, but up to the present they have not got the slightest clew to the children's whereabouts."

"As like as not," said Fortune, "these two have been stolen by gypsies."

"We thought of that at once," said Uncle William.

"Yes," interrupted Fortune, "and then, when you couldn't make the thing fit, or find your clew, you dropped it. Now let me tell you, sir, that aint our way in America. When we get the faintest ghost of a clew we cling on to it as if it were grim death, and we don't let it go, not for nobody. It's my belief that gypsies are at the bottom of the matter, and why have not you and your detectives looked in every gypsy encampment in the length and breadth of England?"

"There were some gypsies in our neighborhood, only we did not know it the first day," continued Mr. Dolman, "and their camp was of course thoroughly examined, but no little people in the least resembling the children were found there."

"Then of course it goes without saying," continued Fortune, "that the gypsies passed on the little dears to other folk. Now the question is, What sort of folk
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would be interested in a little pair like them? They was both young, both lissom, both handsome, and Miss Diana was the bravest child I ever come across—maybe they was sold to someone to train 'em to walk on the tight rope."

Uncle William smiled indulgently.

"The detectives would certainly have found that out by this time," he said. "Besides, there were no traveling companies of any sort within a radius of quite fifteen miles."

"Very well," said Fortune; "then, perhaps, sir, you'll allow me to manage things my own way. I aint a detective, but I'm bent on detective work for the time being. I'm going straight off to Madersley this morning. I'm going to have descriptions of those children printed in very big characters, and posted all over Madersley."

"And why specially all over Madersley?" asked Mr. Dolman.

"'Cos Madersley is, so to speak, their native town," answered Fortune. "Why, there aint a person in Madersley who don't know Delaney Manor; and strangers, when they come there, drive out to see Delaney Manor as they would any other big place, and folks at this time of year travel from far to stay at Madersley, because the place is bracing and the coast good for bathing. So you see, Mr. Dolman, there'll be lots of people who will read my descriptions, and when they read 'em they'll begin to talk about the children, and there's no saying what may happen."

"It doesn't sound a bad idea," said Mr. Dolman.

"Bad!" repeated Fortune. "It's a first-rate idea; it's an American idea. In America we never let the
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grass grow under our feet. I'm off to Madersley this minute to see after those posters. Why, we post up everything in America, every single thing that is lost, let alone children, and we do it in big type, as big as they make it, and we put the posters on the walls, and wherever there's a scrap of available space. By your leave, sir, I'm off to Madersley now."

Fortune was as good as her word. She not only went to Madersley and interviewed some of the best printers in the place, but she also visited the police station, and told the police to be on the lookout.

"For the two youngest little Delaneys are missing," she said, "and found they must be, if heaven and earth are moved to accomplish the job."

The superintendent of police remembered that he had already had notice of two children being missing somewhere in the North of England, but as he thought it extremely unlikely that such children would come to the southwest, he had not troubled himself much about them. Fortune's words, however, stimulated his zeal, and he promised to keep a sharp lookout. The printer also was full of enthusiasm, and agreed to print posters which should even satisfy Fortune. He certainly did his best; and a day or two later flaming posters, in red and black ink, were pasted up all over the little town. In these, Fortune had given a most accurate description of ............