just his wig, and with many last words,
managed to spin out the remaining time, till at last the welcome signal
of departure was given.

Haeberlein's mouth relaxed into a benignant smile, as he nodded a
farewell; then he discreetly composed himself into a sleeping posture,
while Erica stood on the platform and waved her handkerchief.

As she moved away the two detectives passed by her.

"Not there! At any rate," she heard one of them say. "Maybe they got him
by the nine o'clock at Waterloo."

"More likely trapped him in Guilford Terrace," replied the other.

Erica, shaking with suppressed laughter, saw the men leave the station;
and then, springing into a cab, drove to a street in the neighborhood of
Guildford Square.

Now that her work was over, she began to feel what a terrible strain it
had been. At first she lay back in the corner of the cab in a state of
dreamy peace, watching the gas-lighted streets, the hurrying passengers,
with a comfortable sense of security and rest. But when she was set down
near Guilford Square, her courage, which in real danger had never failed
her, suddenly ebbed away, and left her merely a young girl, with aching
back and weary limbs, with a shrinking dislike of walking alone so late
in the evening. Worse of all, her old childish panic had taken hold of
her once more; her knees trembled beneath her, as she remembered that
she must pass the spy, who would assuredly still be keeping watch in
Guilford Terrace. The dread of being secretly watched had always been a
torment to her. Spies, sometimes real, sometimes imaginary, had been the
terror of her childhood had taken the place of the ghost and bogy panics
which assail children brought up in other creeds.

The fact was, she had been living at very high pressure, and she was too
much exhausted to conquer her unreasonable fright, which increased every
moment, until she was on the point of going to the Osmonds, willing to
frame any excuse for so late a visit if only she could get one of them
to walk home with her. Honesty and shame hindered her, however, With a
great effort of will she forced herself to pass the door, horrified to
find how nearly selfish cowardice had induced her to draw her friends
into suspicion. Echoes of the hymns sung at her baptism, and at the
subsequent confirmation rang in her ears. She walked on more bravely.

By the time she reached Guilford Terrace, she had herself quite in hand.
And it was well; for, as she