owner, could do no more than hope
that one of these fine days a wheel would come off that closed car and
its occupant be forced to disclose himself.

But in the main the town was content to allow the eccentric owner of the
Secret House all the privacy he desired. He might do things which were
unheard of, as indeed he did, and Great Bradley, standing aloof, was
content to thank God that it was not cast in the same bizarre mould as
this wealthy unknown, and took comfort from the reflection.

For he did many curious things. He had a power house of his own; you
could see the chimney showing over Wadleigh Copse, with dynamos of
enormous power which generated all that was necessary for lighting and
heating the big house.

There were honest British working men in Great Bradley who spoke
bitterly of the owner's preference for foreign labour, and it was a fact
that the men engaged in the electrical works were without exception of
foreign origin. They had their quarters and lived peacefully apart,
neither offering nor desiring the confidence of their fellow-townsmen.
They were, in fact, frugal people of the Latin race who had no other
wish than to work hard and to save as much of their salaries as was
possible in order that at some future date they might return to their
beloved Italy, and live in peace with the world; they were well paid for
their discretion, a sufficient reason for its continuance.

Lady Constance Dex had been fortunate in that she had secured one of the
few favours which the Secret House had shown to the town. An underground
cable had been laid to her house, and she alone of all human beings in
the world was privileged to enter the home of this mysterious stranger
without challenge.

She busied herself for some time changing her dress and removing the
signs of her hasty journey from London. Her maid brought her dinner on a
tray, and when she had finished she went again into her boudoir, and
opening the drawer of her bureau she took out a slender-barrelled
revolver. She looked at it for some time, carefully examined the
chambers and into each dropped a nickel-tipped cartridge. She snapped
back the hinged chamber and slipped the pistol into a pocket of her
woollen cloak. She locked the bureau again and went out through the door
and down the stairs. Her car was still waiting, but she turned to the
servant who stood deferentially by the door.

"Have the car put in the garage," she said; "I am going to see Mr