s of the big chair.

"Yes?" she said encouragingly, for his lips had moved.

"I feel," he said in a whisper----

"Yes," urged Mary. "What?"

"Hope!" he said, aloud, and gave her his hand.

The cab of the village bore her to the station over roads tearful
with rain, and arrived there just as the London train came to a stop.
The tall figure of Professor Fish, jumping from his compartment and
turning to slam the door vehemently, struck her as oddly familiar;
the man's personality stood in high relief from his surroundings. Yet
there was a certain disturbance in his manner as he greeted her--a
touch of the confidential, which added to her curiosity. He sat
opposite to her in the cab, so that when he leaned forward to speak,
with his hat pushed impatiently back, his big insistent face was
thrust forward close to hers, and his great shoulders humped as
though in effort.

"This is a very annoying thing, Miss Pond," he began, as the cab
started back along the tree-bordered road. "A most annoying thing;
privacy was absolutely essential. Here is something done, a big
thing, too; and when only privacy, reticence, quiet are essential, we
have this infernal fuss on our hands."

He spoke with all his habitual force and volume; but something in him
suggested to Mary that he did so consciously and of purpose.

"Well," she said; "there's nobody about here that is likely to guess
at your experiment. That isn't the trouble, you know. The trouble is
that people say they recognize Mr. Smith as a man who is wanted by
the police, who is supposed, too, to be dead. So, you see, the only
thing wanted is an explanation."

"Explanation!" He put the word from him with a gesture of his big,
smooth hands.

Mary nodded, scanning him coolly. "Yes," she said; "I can understand
that an explanation might be difficult."

Professor Fish laughed shortly, a mere bark of sour mirth, and turned
to look through the rain-splashed window of the cab.

"Difficult!" he repeated, and turned his face to her again. "Not at
all difficult, my dear Miss Pond, but awkward. Lord! it wouldn't do
at all!" His eyes behind his glasses became keen and lively. He
looked at her carefully.

"He's talked to you, eh? You've heard his story?"

"Yes," answered Mary. "Once; it was very wonderful."

He nodded, still scrutinising her. "I wish I could make him talk," he
said thoughtfully. "However----" he shrugged his big shoulders and was
silent.

There was a pause th