eer who had recently died, and indeed she had
met her once and been introduced to her.

Of the conditions of old Mr. Henfrey's will she was, of course, in
ignorance. The girl had no idea of the great plot which had been formed
by her foster father and his clever female friend.

The world is a strange one beneath the surface of things. Those who
passed the imposing gates of the beautiful old English manor-house never
dreamed that it sheltered one of the most notorious female criminals in
Europe. And the worshipful magistrates and their wives who visited her
would have received a rude shock had they but known. But many modern
adventuresses have been able to bamboozle the mighty. Madame Humbert
of Paris, in whose imagination were "The Humbert Millions," used to
entertain Ministers of State, aristocrats, financiers, and others of
lower degree, and show them the sealed-up safe in which she declared
reposed millions' worth of negotiable securities which might not see the
light of day until a certain date. The avaricious, even shrewd, bankers
advanced loans upon things they had never seen, and the Humberts were
the most sought-after family in Paris until the bubble burst and they
fled and were afterwards arrested in Spain.

Molly Maxwell was a marvel of ingenuity, of criminal foresight, and of
amazing elusiveness. Louise, young and unsuspicious, looked upon her as
a mother. Benton she called "Uncle," and was always grateful to him
for all he did for her. She understood that they were cousins, and that
Benton advised Mrs. Maxwell in her disastrous matrimonial affairs.

Yet the life she had led ever since leaving school had been a truly
adventurous one. She had been in half the watering places of Europe, and
in most of its capitals, leading, with the woman who now called herself
Mrs. Bond, a most extravagant life at hotels of the first order.

The car at last ran into the station yard at Guildford, and at the
bookstall Louise exchanged her books with the courteous manager.

She was passing through the booking-office back to the car, when a voice
behind her called:

"Hallo, Louise!"

Turning, she found her "uncle," Charles Benton, who, wearing a light
overcoat and grey velour hat, grasped her hand.

"Well, dear," he exclaimed. "This is fortunate. Mead is here, I
suppose?"

"Yes, uncle," replied the girl, much gratified at meeting him.

"I was about to engage a taxi to take me up to the Manor, but now you
can take me