to meet him? _Does_ she, now? Tut--tut--tut! But we needn't
think harm, Mrs. Butterfield--though you can tell from her face she'll
need a good deal of looking after. And does she come regular, now?'

The old woman confessed that she only knew of two meetings, with a very
long interval, but she hinted that the first had taken place under
circumstances very suspicious; in fact, that it was obviously an
appointment. And this morning, as soon as she knew of Thyrza's presence
in the library (by the borrowing of the hammer), she had kept a secret
espial through the key-hole of the inner door, with the result that she
witnessed the two chatting together in a way sufficiently noteworthy,
considering the difference of their stations.

The matter having been made to bear all the fruit it would in
malevolent discussion, Mr. Bower left the old woman at her supper, and
with a candle went to explore the state of the library. He did not
remain long, for the big room was very cold, and shortly after
rejoining the caretaker he bade her the friendliest good-evening.

'I consider you've done very right to tell me this,' he said, as she
went to let him out. 'In _my_ opinion it's something as Grail ought to
know. You keep an eye open to-morrow morning; depend upon it, you're
doing a good work. I shouldn't wonder if I look in to-morrow night. And
I dare say you could do with a nice bit of cheese, eh? I'll see if I
can pick a bit out of the shop.'

On Tuesday night he repeated his visit, bringing half a pound of very
strong American in his pocket. He heard a shocking story. Thyrza had
again been to the library, and so secretly that but for her station at
the key-hole Mrs. Butterfield would have known nothing of it.

'Well, well, now! Tut--tut--tut!' commented portly Mr. Bower. 'To
think! You never _can_ trust these young men as have more money than
they know what to do with! But I didn't think it of Egremont. That's
the kind of fellow as comes to preach to the working man and tell him
of his faults! Bah! Well, I'm not one for going about spreading storie.
Grail must take his chance. Perhaps it 'ud be as well, Mrs.
Butterfield, if _you_ kept this little affair quiet--just between you
and me, you know. There's no knowing.--Eh? A time may come.--Eh? It's
none of our business _just now_.--Eh? You understand, Mrs. Butterfield?
It might be as well to keep an eye open to the end of the week.'

Mr. Bower, on the way home, turned into his club,