it pulled up at the pillared porch of a big
house.

Rennett helped her to alight and ushered her through the door, which
opened almost as they stopped, into a large panelled hall.

"This is the way, let me show you," said the younger man.

He opened a door and she found herself in a big drawing-room,
exquisitely furnished and lit by two silver electroliers suspended from
the carved roof.

To her relief an elderly woman rose to greet her.

"This is my wife, Miss Beale," said Rennett. "I need hardly explain that
this is also my home."

"So you found the young lady," said the elderly lady, smiling her
welcome, "and what does Miss Beale think of your proposition?"

The young man Glover came in at that moment, and divested of his long
raincoat and hat, he proved to be of a type that the Universities turn
out by the hundred. He was good-looking too, Lydia noticed with feminine
inconsequence, and there was something in his eyes that inspired trust.
He nodded with a smile to Mrs. Rennett, then turned to the girl.

"Now Miss Beale, I don't know whether I ought to explain or whether my
learned and distinguished friend prefers to save me the trouble."

"Not me," said the elder man hastily. "My dear," he turned to his wife,
"I think we'll leave Jack Glover to talk to this young lady."

"Doesn't she know?" asked Mrs. Rennett in surprise, and Lydia laughed,
although she was feeling far from amused.

The possible loss of her employment, the disquieting adventure of the
evening, and now this further mystery all combined to set her nerves on
edge.

Glover waited until the door closed on his partner and his wife and
seemed inclined to wait a little longer, for he stood with his back to
the fire, biting his lips and looking down thoughtfully at the carpet.

"I don't just know how to begin, Miss Beale," he said. "And having seen
you, my conscience is beginning to work overtime. But I might as well
start at the beginning. I suppose you have heard of the Bulford murder?"

The girl stared at him.

"The Bulford murder?" she said incredulously, and he nodded.

"Why, of course, everybody has heard of that."

"Then happily it is unnecessary to explain all the circumstances," said
Jack Glover, with a little grimace of distaste.

"I only know," interrupted the girl, "that Mr. Bulford was killed by a
Mr. Meredith, who was jealous of him, and that Mr. Meredith, when he
went into the witness-box, behaved disgracefully to his fianc