the morning air, and the morning quiet, are
essential in these nervous cases. We are early
people here—we shall start at seven o'clock. If
you are early too, and if you would like to join
us, I need hardly say that we can feel no
objection to your company on our morning walk.
The hour, I am aware, is an unusual one—but,
later in the day, my niece may be resting on the
sofa, and may not be able to see visitors."

Having made this proposal, purely for the
purpose of enabling Mr. Noel Vanstone to escape
to North Shingles at an hour in the morning
when his housekeeper would be probably in bed,
Captain Wragge left him to take the hint, if he
could, as indirectly as it had been given. He
proved sharp enough (the case being one in which
his own interests were concerned) to close with
the proposal on the spot. Politely declaring that
he was always an early man when the morning
presented any special attraction to him, he
accepted the appointment for seven o'clock; and
rose soon afterwards to take his leave.

"One word at parting," said Captain Wragge.
"This conversation is entirely between ourselves.
Mrs. Lecount must know nothing of the impression
she has produced on my niece. I have only
mentioned it to you, to account for my apparently
churlish conduct, and to satisfy your own mind.
In confidence, Mr. Vanstone—strictly in
confidence. Good morning!"

With these parting words, the captain bowed
his visitor out. Unless some unexpected disaster
occurred, he now saw his way safely to the end of
the enterprise. He had gained two important
steps in advance, that morning. He had sown
the seeds of variance between the housekeeper
and her master; and he had given Mr. Noel
Vanstone a common interest with Magdalen and
himself, in keeping a secret from Mrs. Lecount.
"We have caught our man," thought Captain
Wragge, cheerfully rubbing his hands—"We
have caught our man at last!"

On leaving North Shingles, Mr. Noel Vanstone
walked straight home; fully restored to
his place in his own estimation, and sternly
determined to carry matters with a high hand, if
he found himself in collision with Mrs. Lecount.

The housekeeper received her master at the
door with her mildest manner, and her gentlest
smile. She addressed him with downcast eyes;
she opposed to his contemplated assertion of
independence a barrier of impenetrable respect.

"May I venture to ask, sir," she began, "if
your visit to North Shingles has led you to form
the same conclusion as mine on the subject of
Miss Bygrave's illness?"

"Certainly not, Lecount. I consider your
conclusion to have been both hasty and
prejudiced."

"I am sorry to hear it, sir. I felt hurt by Mr.
Bygrave's rude reception of me—but I was not
aware that my judgment was prejudiced by it.
Perhaps he received you, sir, with a warmer
welcome?"

"He received me like a gentleman—that is all
I think it necessary to say, Lecount—he received
me like a gentleman."

This answer satisfied Mrs. Lecount on the one
doubtful point that had perplexed her. Whatever
Mr. Bygrave's sudden coolness towards herself
might mean, his polite reception of her master
implied that the risk of detection had not daunted
him, and that the conspiracy was still in full
progress. The housekeeper's eyes brightened:
She had expressly calculated on this result.
After a moment's thinking, she addressed her
master with another question:

"You will probably visit Mr. Bygrave again,
sir?"

"Of course I shall visit him—if I please."

"And perhaps see Miss Bygrave, if she gets
better?"

"Why not? I should be glad to know why
not? Is it necessary to ask your leave first,
Lecount?"

"By no means, sir. As you have often said
(and as I have often agreed with you), you are
master. It may surprise you to hear it, Mr.
Noel—but I have a private reason for wishing
that you should see Miss Bygrave again."

Mr. Noel started a little, and looked at his
housekeeper with some curiosity.

"I have a strange fancy of my own, sir, about
that young lady," proceeded Mrs. Lecount. "If
you will excuse my fancy, and indulge it, you
will do me a favour for which I shall be very
grateful."

"A fancy?" repeated her master, in growing
surprise. "What fancy?"

"Only this, sir," said Mrs. Lecount.

She took from one of the neat little pockets of
her apron a morsel of note paper, carefully
folded into the smallest possible compass; and
respectfully placed it in Noel Vanstone's hand.

"If you are willing to oblige an old and faithful
servant, Mr. Noel," she said, in a very quiet
and very impressive manner, "you will kindly
put that morsel of paper into your
waistcoat-pocket; you will open and read it, for the first
time, when you are next in Miss Bygrave's
company; and you will say nothing of what has now
passed between us to any living creature, from
this time to that. I promise to explain my
strange request, sir, when you have done what I
ask, and when your next interview with Miss
Bygrave has come to an end."

She curtseyed with her best grace, and quietly
left the room.

Mr. Noel Vanstone looked from the folded
paper to the door, and from the door back to the
folded paper, in unutterable astonishment. A
mystery in his own house, under his own nose!
What did it mean?

It meant that Mrs. Lecount had not wasted
her time that morning. While the captain was
casting the net over his visitor at North Shingles,
the housekeeper was steadily mining the ground
under his feet. The folded paper contained
nothing less than a carefully- written extract from