rmed about. If the same gentleman calls again, let me know
instantly."

"Very good, madame." And then, turning as though conferring upon me a
part of his responsibility for the security of the premises: "It's a
party with a limp; just a trifling limp, sir; you'd hardly notice it. It
was worse the last time as he ran away. A smallish man, rather dark,
with a little mustache turned up at the ends."

"I have noted all these details, Antoine," I replied; and again I
thought there was a telegraphic exchange between the ladies, though
this time a black slipper was the means of communication.

Torrence arrived in a moment, and nothing has ever given me keener joy
than his shock of surprise at beholding Mrs. Bashford. As I introduced
the ladies he was so overcome that he greeted Mrs. Farnsworth as Mrs.
Bashford--a not unnatural mistake--and there was an embarrassing moment
as I set him right. Having done this, I seated myself beside Mrs.
Farnsworth that Torrence might be free to talk business with my aunt. I
was devoutly grateful that he had not been present at the dinner-table,
for my own efforts to interest Torrence in anything but the most
practical matters had always been highly unsuccessful, and the
discussion of ghosts and witches would hardly have amused him. As Mrs.
Farnsworth and I took up the recent movements on the western front I
overheard Torrence putting all the machinery of the trust company at
Mrs. Bashford's disposal. It seemed almost a blasphemy to be talking of
income and like matters to a woman like Alice Bashford!

They continued their conference for some time, but I got nothing out of
Mrs. Farnsworth that shed any light on my aunt's history beyond what
she had told me herself, which was precious little. Mrs. Farnsworth's
talk was that of a cultivated woman. Her voice interested me
unaccountably; the tones had all manner of shadings and inflections; it
was curiously musical, but in speaking of the great war a passionate
note crept into it that stirred me deeply.

"This has been a dark year for Alice," she remarked. "Mr. Bashford's
death, followed quickly by that of her brother--an only son--piled a
cruel burden of grief upon the dear child. She wants to go back to
England to nurse the wounded, to do anything for our dear country, but I
want to keep her here a little while until she can readjust herself. You
must not think, Mr. Singleton, that she has no feeling; you have no idea
of the depths of that c