r to burn the little slip of paper,
and while he watched it being consumed Shorthouse put the real papers in
his pocket and slipped the imitation ones into the bag. Garvey turned
just in time to see this latter movement.

"I'm putting the papers back," Shorthouse said quietly; "you've done
with them, I think."

"Certainly," he replied as, completely deceived, he saw the blue
envelope disappear into the black bag and watched Shorthouse turn the
key. "They no longer have the slightest interest for me." As he spoke he
moved over to the sideboard, and pouring himself out a small glass of
whisky asked his visitor if he might do the same for him. But the
visitor declined and was already putting on his overcoat when Garvey
turned with genuine surprise on his face.

"You surely are not going back to New York to-night, Mr. Shorthouse?" he
said, in a voice of astonishment.

"I've just time to catch the 7.15 if I'm quick."

"But I never heard of such a thing," Garvey said. "Of course I took it
for granted that you would stay the night."

"It's kind of you," said Shorthouse, "but really I must return to-night.
I never expected to stay."

The two men stood facing each other. Garvey pulled out his watch.

"I'm exceedingly sorry," he said; "but, upon my word, I took it for
granted you would stay. I ought to have said so long ago. I'm such a
lonely fellow and so little accustomed to visitors that I fear I forgot
my manners altogether. But in any case, Mr. Shorthouse, you cannot catch
the 7.15, for it's already after six o'clock, and that's the last train
to-night." Garvey spoke very quickly, almost eagerly, but his voice
sounded genuine.

"There's time if I walk quickly," said the young man with decision,
moving towards the door. He glanced at his watch as he went. Hitherto he
had gone by the clock on the mantelpiece. To his dismay he saw that it
was, as his host had said, long after six. The clock was half an hour
slow, and he realised at once that it was no longer possible to catch
the train.

Had the hands of the clock been moved back intentionally? Had he been
purposely detained? Unpleasant thoughts flashed into his brain and made
him hesitate before taking the next step. His employer's warning rang in
his ears. The alternative was six miles along a lonely road in the
dark, or a night under Garvey's roof. The former seemed a direct
invitation to catastrophe, if catastrophe there was planned to be. The
latter--well, the