om the table a letter which the morning's
post had brought to him; and that he had gone back immediately to his
own room. Allan at once ascended the stairs again, and knocked at his
friend's door.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Not just now," was the answer.

"You have got a letter, haven't you?" persisted Allan. "Any bad news?
Anything wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm not very well this morning. Don't wait breakfast for me;
I'll come down as soon as I can."

No more was said on either side. Allan returned to the breakfast-room a
little disappointed. He had set his heart on rushing headlong into his
consultation with Midwinter, and here was the consultation indefinitely
delayed. "What an odd fellow he is!" thought Allan. "What on earth can
he be doing, locked in there by himself?"

He was doing nothing. He was sitting by the window, with the letter
which had reached him that morning open in his hand. The handwriting was
Mr. Brock's, and the words written were these:

"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--I have literally only two minutes before post time
to tell you that I have just met (in Kensington Gardens) with the woman
whom we both only know, thus far, as the woman with the red Paisley
shawl. I have traced her and her companion (a respectable-looking
elderly lady) to their residence--after having distinctly heard Allan's
name mentioned between them. Depend on my not losing sight of the woman
until I am satisfied that she means no mischief at Thorpe Ambrose;
and expect to hear from me again as soon as I know how this strange
discovery is to end.

"Very truly yours, DECIMUS BROCK."

After reading the letter for the second time, Midwinter folded it up
thoughtfully, and placed it in his pocket-book, side by side with the
manuscript narrative of Allan's dream.

"Your discovery will not end with _you_, Mr. Brock," he said. "Do what
you will with the woman, when the time comes the woman will be here."

V. MOTHER OLDERSHAW ON HER GUARD.

1. _From Mrs. Oldershaw (Diana Street, Pimlico) to Miss Gwilt (West
Place, Old Brompton)_.

"Ladies' Toilet Repository, June 20th,

"Eight in the Evening.

"MY DEAR LYDIA--About three hours have passed, as well as I can
remember, since I pushed you unceremoniously inside my house in West
Place, and, merely telling you to wait till you saw me again, banged
the door to between us, and left you alone in the hall. I know your
sensitive nature, my dear, and I am afraid you have made up your m