re are such people," I said; "but what can he
possibly know about me? And what is he coming to do for us now?"

"He knows all about you, for a very simple reason. That you do not know
him, is a proof of his ability. For you must have met him times out of
number. This is the fellow employed by your good but incapable cousin,
Lord Castlewood."

"He is not incapable; he is a man of great learning, and noble
character--"

"Well, never mind that; you must not be so hot. What I mean is that he
has done nothing for you beyond providing for your safety. And that
he certainly did right well, and at considerable expense, for this man
can't be had for nothing. You need have been under no terror at all in
any of the scenes you have been through. Your safety was watched for
continually."

"Then why did he not come and help me? Why did he not find out that
horrible man?"

"Because it was not in his orders, and Jack is the last man to go beyond
those. He is so clever that the stupid Moonites took him for a stupid
Moonite. You should have employed him yourself, Erema; but you are so
proud and independent."

"I should hope so, indeed. Should I put up with deceit? If the truth
is not to be had without falsehood, it is not worth having. But what is
this man to do here now?"

"That depends upon circumstances. He has better orders than I could
give, for I am no hand at scheming. Here we are; or here we stop.
Say nothing till I tell you. Pray allow me the honor. You keep in the
background, remember, with your veil, or whatever you call it, down.
Nobody stops at the very door. Of course that is humbug--we conform to
it."

With a stiff inclination, the gallant Major handed me out of the cab in
a quiet corner of a narrow street, then paid the driver with less
fuss than usual, and led me into a queer little place marked in almost
illegible letters, "Little England Polygon." "You have the card, my
dear?" he whispered; "keep it till I call you in. But be ready to
produce it in a moment. For the rest, I leave you to your own wit. Jack
is on the watch, mind."

There were two doors near together, one a brave door with a plate,
and swung on playing hinges, the other of too secluded a turn to even
pronounce itself "private." We passed through the public door, and found
only a lobby, with a boy on guard. "Mr. Goad? Yes, Sir. This way, Sir,"
cried the boy. "Lady stay? Yes, Sir; waiting-room for ladies. Chair,
miss; here, if you please--first