"Eh--eh!" stammered the vicar. "Has all the world gone mad this morning?
A sovereign in the poor-box, from my gardener! Wh--what----"

"A little mad, sir?" smiled Henry Brown. "Perhaps there's some excuse.
Good-by and thank you."

He touched his hat and left the Shereling garden forever. Mr. Peters
stared dumbly after him. He could make nothing of it, however, so he
came to the sensible resolution of setting out on his investigations at
once. Taking a stick in his hand, he trudged toward The Quiet House.
Here, by the way, he was told there was nobody at home.

Henry Brown, whistling a cheerful strain, betook himself to The Happy
Heart. He found the motor-car standing outside, the chauffeur indulging
in a cigarette. Voices from the parlor indicated that the landlord was
trying to reason with two ladies, neither of whom seemed to be amenable
to treatment.

"But he's gorn, I tell you, ma'am," said the voice of Mr. Glew
despairingly. "Ran in here, he did, a quarter of an hour ago: out again
in five minutes----"

"I think you are prevaricating, Glew," said the acid tones of Mrs.
Peters. "Your manner is not straightforward at all this morning----"

"And we shan't be satisfied till you have shown us his room," added Mrs.
Hedderwick. "So there!"

As the landlord resumed the mournful chant, apparently relying on
tautological emphasis rather than reasoned argument or ocular
demonstration (a suggestion that seemed unwelcome), Henry Brown smiled
and passed into the bar. Addressing the Boots, a "lad" of sixty-three,
who acted as barman, beater, stable-boy, or butler as occasion or the
seasons demanded, he said, "Is Miss Schmidt ready?"

"B'leeve so," said the Boots. "But I'll tell her you're here."

He went out, but returned shortly, followed by Mizzi, who was dressed
for traveling. "Ah!" said she, with a radiant smile of welcome. "I have
not kept you waiting long, have I?"

"Five days," answered Henry, to the astonishment of the Boots. "Five
wasted days. Can't think why you wanted to stay here all that time.
After being----"

He paused. He was about to say "sacked," but from consideration of his
audience, refrained. Mizzi thanked him with a laugh.

"Ah!" she said very cheerfully. "The separation--shall we say?--was due
to--guess!"

"Dunno," said Henry, watching her fasten her glove with admiring eyes.

"Jealousy!" she flashed, with a ripple of merriment. "Think of it!
_Jealousy!_ Even I could have hardly credited i