ld explain it, she said she thought not,
but gave no reasons."

"Why should she be mysterious?"

"That is more than I can tell you. Mystery rather lies in her
character, I fancy."

"Would you mind telling me whether she is in the habit of going out
alone?"

Eleanor hesitated a little, surprised by the question.

"Yes, she is. She often takes a walk alone in the afternoon."

"Thank you. Never mind why I wished to know. It throws no light on
Cecily's disappearance."

They talked of it for some time, and were still so engaged when Spence
came in. In him the intelligence excited no particular anxiety; Cecily
had gone to her aunt, that was all. What else was to be expected when
she found an empty house?

"But," remarked Eleanor, "the question remains whether or not she has
heard of this scandal."

Mallard could have solved their doubts on this point, but to do so
involved an explanation of how he came possessed of the knowledge; he
held his peace.

It was doubtful whether Elgar would keep his promise and communicate
any news he might have. Mallard worked through the day, as usual, but
with an uneasy mind. In the morning he walked over once more to the
Spences', and learnt that anxieties were at an end; Mrs. Baske had
received a letter from her brother, in which Cecily's absence was
explained. Elgar wrote that he was making preparations for departure;
in a few days they hoped to be in Paris, where henceforth they purposed
living.

He went away without seeing Miriam, and there passed more than a
fortnight before he again paid her a visit. In the meantime he had seen
Spence, who reported an interview between Eleanor and Mrs. Lessingham;
nothing of moment, but illustrating the idiosyncrasies of Cecily's
relative. When at length, one sunny afternoon, Mallard turned his steps
towards the familiar house, it was his chance to encounter Eleanor and
her husband just hastening to catch a train; they told him hurriedly
that Miriam had heard from Paris.

"Go and ask her to tell you about it," said Eleanor. "She is not going
out."

Mallard asked nothing better. He walked on with a curious smile, was
admitted, and waited a minute or two in the drawing-room. Miriam
entered, and shook hands with him, coldly courteous, distantly
dignified.

"I am sorry Mrs. Spence is not at home."

"I came to see you, Mrs. Baske. I have just met them, and heard that
you have news from Paris."

"Only a note, sending a temporary address.