Ah!--do you see what it is?"--he
held it up--"the Arms of Florence, embroidered in gold and silver
thread. H'm. I suppose, Buntingford, you get some Whitsuntide visitors
in the village?"

"Oh, yes, a few. There's a little pub with one or two decent rooms, and
several cottagers take lodgers. The lady, whoever she was, was scarcely a
person of delicacy."

"She was in that place for an object," said Geoffrey, interrupting him
with some decision. "Of that I feel certain. If she had just lost her
way, and was trespassing--she must have known, I think, that she was
trespassing--why didn't she answer my call and let me put her over the
lake? Of course I should never have seen her at all, but for that
accident of the searchlight."

"The question is," said Buntingford, "how long did she stay there? She
was not under the yews when you saw her?"

"No--just outside."

"Well, then, supposing, to get out of the way of the searchlight, she
found her way in and discovered my seat--how long do you guess she was
there?--and when the bag dropped?"

"Any time between then--and midnight--when Helena found it," said French.
"She may have gone very soon after I saw her, leaving the bag on the
seat; or, if she stayed, on my supposition that she was there for the
purpose of spying, then she probably vanished when she heard our boat
drawn up, and knew that Helena and I were getting out."

"A long sitting!" said Buntingford with a laugh--"four hours. I really
can't construct any reasonable explanation on those lines."

"Why not? Some people have a passion for spying and eavesdropping. If I
were such a person, dumped in a country village with nothing to do, I
think I could have amused myself a good deal last night, in that
observation post. Through that hole I told you of, one could see the
lights and the dancing on the lawn, and watch the boats on the lake. She
could hear the music, and if anyone did happen to be talking secrets just
under the yews, she could have heard every word, quite easily."

Involuntarily he looked at Helena, Helena was looking at the grass. Was
it mere fancy, or was there a sudden pinkness in her cheeks? Buntingford
too seemed to have a slightly conscious air. But he rose to his feet,
with a laugh.

"Well, I'll have a stroll to the village, some time to-day, and see what
I can discover about your _Incognita_, Helena. If she is a holiday
visitor, she'll be still on the spot. Geoffrey had better come with me,
as