mistress, yet I saw, by the gravity of his pale,
furrowed face, that he was anxious and puzzled.

As I ate, without appetite, he chatted to me, as had been his habit in
my bachelor days, for through long years of service--ever since I was
a lad--he had become more a friend than a mere servant. From many a
boyish scrape he had shielded me, and much good advice had he given me
in those reckless days of my rather wild youth.

His utter devotion to my father had always endeared him to me, for to
him there was no family respected so much as ours, and his
faithfulness was surely unequalled.

Perhaps he did not approve of my marriage. I held a strong suspicion
that he had not. Yet old servants are generally apt to be resentful at
the advent of a new mistress.

I was finishing my coffee and thinking deeply, Browning having left me
alone, when suddenly he returned, and, bending, said in his quiet
way--

"A gentleman has called, Mr. Owen. He wishes to see you very
particularly." And he handed me a card, upon which I saw the name:
"Henri Guertin."

I sprang to my feet, my mind made up in an instant. Here was one
actually of the gang, and I would entrap him in my own house!

I would compel him to speak the truth, under pain of arrest.

"Where is he?" I asked breathlessly.

"I have shown him into the study. He's a foreign gentleman, Mr. Owen."

"Yes, I know," I said. "But now, don't be alarmed, Browning--just stay
outside in the hall. If I ring the bell, go straight to the telephone,
ring up the police-station, and tell them to send a constable here at
once. My study door will be locked until the constable arrives. You
understand?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Owen, but----" And the old man hesitated, looking at
me apprehensively.

"There is nothing whatever to fear," I laughed, rather harshly
perhaps. "Carry out my orders, that's all."

And then, in fierce determination, I went along the hall, and, opening
the study door, entered, closing it behind me, and as I stood with my
back to it I turned the key and removed it.

"Well, M'sieur Guertin," I exclaimed, addressing the stout man in gold
pince-nez in rather a severe tone, "and what, pray, do you want with
me?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A CONTRETEMPS

The stout, round-faced Frenchman rose, and, bowing with his irritating
politeness, answered--

"I wish to consult you, Monsieur Biddulph, upon a confidential matter
concerning your wife."

"What does my wife conce