being more than usually astute.

"Is she an intellectual woman?" she inquired.

"Not in the least. An unsparingly brilliant person might feel himself
entitled to the right to call her stupid."

"Is she talkative?"

"Far from it. One of her charms is the nice respect she seems to feel
for the remarks of others."

"And she is not excitable?"

"Rather the reverse. If excitability is liveliness, she is dull."

"I see," slowly, "you have not yet thought it possible that she
might--well--be under some delusion."

Warren turned quickly and looked at her.

"It is wonderfully brilliant of you to have thought of it. A delusion?"
He stood and thought it over.

"Do you remember," his wife assisted him with, "the complications which
arose from young Mrs. Jerrold's running away, under similar
circumstances, to Scotland and hiding herself in a shepherd's cottage
under the impression that her husband was shadowing her with detectives?
You recollect what a lovable woman she was, and what horror she felt of
the poor fellow."

"Yes, yes. That was an Extraordinary Case too."

Mrs. Warren warmed with her subject.

"Here is a woman obviously concealing herself from the world in a
lodging-house, plainly possessing money, owning a huge ruby ring,
receiving documents stamped with imposing seals, taking exercise only by
night, heart-wrung over the non-arrival of letters which are due. Every
detail points to one painful, dubious situation. On the other hand, she
presents to you the manner and aspect of a woman who is absolutely not
dubious, and who is merely anxious on the one point a dubious person
would be indifferent to. Isn't it, then, possible that over-wrought
physical condition may have driven her to the belief that she is hiding
from danger."

Dr. Warren was evidently following the thought seriously.

"She said," reflecting, "that all that mattered was that she should be
safe. 'I want to keep safe.' That was it. You are very enlightening,
Mary, always. I will go and see her again to-morrow. But," as the result
of another memory, "how sane she seems!"

* * * * *

He was thinking of this possible aspect of the matter as he mounted the
staircase of the house in Mortimer Street the next day. The stairway was
of the ordinary lodging-house type, its dinginess somewhat alleviated by
the fact that the Cupps had covered the worn carpet with clean
warm-coloured felting. The yellowish marbled pap