y one, but I sha'n't cry at sayin' good-by to
you this time. And there's England dead ahead. Won't it seem good to
be where they talk instead of jabber! I sha'n't have to navigate by the
'one-two-three' chart over there."

Dover, a flying trip through the customs, the train again, an English
dinner in an English restaurant car--not a "wagon bed," as Hephzy said,
exultantly--and then London.

We took a cab to the hotel, not Bancroft's this time, but a modern
downtown hostelry where there were at least as many Americans as
English. In our rooms I would have cross-questioned Hephzy, but she
would not be questioned, declaring that she was tired and sleepy. I was
tired, also, but not sleepy. I was almost as excited as she seemed to
be by this time. I was sure she had learned something that morning in
Paris, something which pleased her greatly. What that something might
be I could not imagine; but I believed she had learned it from Herbert
Bayliss.

And the next morning, after breakfast, she announced that she had
arranged for a cab and we must start for the station at once. I said
nothing then, but when the cab pulled up before a railway station, a
station which was not our accustomed one but another, I said a great
deal.

"What in the world, Hephzy!" I exclaimed. "We can't go to Mayberry from
here."

"Hush, hush, Hosy. Wait a minute--wait till I've paid the driver. Yes,
I'm doin' it myself. I'm skipper on this cruise. You're an invalid,
didn't you know it. Invalids have to obey orders."

The cabman paid, she took my arm and led me into the station.

"And now, Hosy," she said, "let me tell you. We aren't goin' to
Mayberry--not yet. We're going to Leatherhead."

"To Leatherhead!" I repeated. "To Leatherhead! To--her? We certainly
will do no such thing."

"Yes, we will, Hosy," quietly. "I haven't said anything about it before,
but I've made up my mind. It's our duty to see her just once more, once
more before--before we say good-by for good. It's our duty."

"Duty! Our duty is to let her alone, to leave her in peace, as she asked
us."

"How do you know she is in peace? Suppose she isn't. Suppose she's
miserable and unhappy. Isn't it our duty to find out? I think it is?"

I looked her full in the face. "Hephzy," I said, sharply, "you know
something about her, something that I don't know. What is it?"

"I don't know as I know anything, Hosy. I can't say that I do. But--"

"You saw Herbert Bayliss yesterday. Tha