is
soldier servant. He explained that the last-named was of the most
exemplary character and threw out a hint of the value of a batman
for such tasks as the cleaning of the family boots and the
polishing of brass or silver.

The landlady made no objections and half an hour later a clean
and respectable-looking man arrived whom Desmond with difficulty
recognized as the wretched vagrant of the previous evening. This
was, indeed, the Gunner Barling he used to know, with his
smooth-shaven chin and neat brown moustache waxed at the ends and
characteristic "quiff" decorating his brow. And so Desmond and
his man installed themselves at Santona Road.

The house was clean and comfortable, and Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe, for
all her "refaynement," as she would have called it, proved
herself a warm-hearted, motherly soul. Desmond had a small but
comfortably furnished bedroom at the top of the house, on the
second floor, with a window which commanded a view of the
diminutive garden and the back of a row of large houses standing
on the lower slopes of the hill. So precipitous was the fall of
the ground, indeed, that Desmond could look right into the garden
of the house backing on Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's. This garden had a
patch of well-kept green sward in the centre with a plaster nymph
in the middle, while in one corner stood a kind of large
summer-house or pavilion built on a slight eminence, with a
window looking into Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's' back garden.

In accordance with a plan of action he had laid down in his mind,
Desmond took all his meals at his rooms. The rest of the day he
devoted to walking about the streets of Campden Hill and setting
on foot discreet inquiries after Mrs. Malplaquet amongst the
local tradespeople.

For three or four days he carried out this arrangement without
the slightest success. He dogged the footsteps of more than one
gray-haired lady of distinguished appearance without lighting
upon his quarry. He bestowed largesse on the constable on point
duty, on the milkman and the baker's young lady; but none of them
had ever heard of Mrs. Malplaquet or recognized her from
Desmond's description.

On the morning of the fourth day Desmond returned to lunch,
dispirited and heart-sick. He had half a mind to abandon his
quest altogether and to go and make his peace with the Chief and
ask to be sent back to France. He ate his lunch and then, feeling
that it would be useless to resume his aimless patrol of the
str