ad formed for her
a little lobby of the landing. She guessed that the sliding doors had
been closed after van Heerden's departure. She had exhausted all the
possibilities of her bedroom and now began an inspection of the other.

Like its fellow, the windows were barred. There was a bookshelf, crowded
with old volumes, mostly on matters ecclesiastical or theological. She
looked at it thoughtfully.

"Now, if I were clever like Mr. Beale," she said aloud, "I could deduce
quite a lot from this room."

A distant church bell began to clang and she realized with a start that
the day was Sunday. She looked at her watch and was amazed to see it was
nearly eleven. She must have slept longer than she had thought.

This window afforded her no better view than did that of the bedroom,
except that she could see the gate more plainly and what looked to be
the end of a low-roofed brick building which had been erected against
the wall. She craned her neck, looking left and right, but the bushes
had been carefully planted to give the previous occupants of these two
rooms greater privacy.

Presently the bell stopped and she addressed herself again to an
examination of the room. In an old-fashioned sloping desk she found a
few sheets of paper, a pen and a bottle half-filled with thick ink.
There were also two telegraph forms, and these gave her an idea. She
went back to the table in the middle of the room. With paper before her
she began to note the contents of the apartment.

"I am trying to be Bealish," she admitted.

She might also have confessed that she was trying to keep her mind off
her possibly perilous position and that though she was not afraid she
had a fear of fear.

"A case full of very dull good books. That means that the person who
lived here before was very serious-minded."

She walked over and examined the titles, pulled out a few books and
looked at their title pages. They all bore the same name, "L. T. B.
Stringer." She uttered an exclamation. Wasn't there some directory of
clergymen's names?--she was sure this was a clergyman, nobody else would
have a library of such weighty volumes.

Her fingers ran along the shelves and presently she found what she
wanted--Crocker's Clergy List of 1879. She opened the book and presently
found, "Stringer, Laurence Thomas Benjamin, Vicar of Upper Staines,
Deans Folly, Upper Reach Village, near Staines."

Her eyes sparkled. Instinctively she knew that she had located her
pr