of an ordeal, I
suppose--little more than a mere formality?" persisted Mrs. Beauchamp,
not wholly reassured by the shade of anxiety in his answer.

"How could it be, mother, when I didn't know the chap from Adam, and was
not present when he was killed," was the reply which was hardly out of
the lieutenant's mouth when he sprang to his feet and made for the door.
"Excuse me," he said, stifling an exclamation of relief, "there is Enid
Mallory coming up the garden path. I have finished breakfast, and I'll
go and see what she wants."

Mrs. Beauchamp smiled indulgently, and straightway forgot the
momentary qualm of uneasiness called up by the half-tone of irritation
in her son's reply to her questions about the inquest. Like the fond
match-making mother she was, she had immediately jumped to the
conclusion that her first diagnosis had been wrong, and that the boy's
wool-gathering was really due to the sprightly maiden whose knock was
even now resounding on the front door. For the Admiral's widow, with
happy memories of her own gallant husband to egg her on, had woven all
sorts of fairy visions round the two young people who were now meeting
on her doorstep. She approved of the lively Enid, was the devoted
friend of her blind mother, and had the most profound respect for Mr.
Vernon Mallory himself.

"It is as it should be; they are outgrowing the old playmate stage, and
are honestly falling in love with each other," the good lady murmured as
she caught a glimpse through the venetians of the pair strolling side by
side across the dewy little lawn.

For, with set purpose, Reggie had not invited Enid into the house, but
had suggested that they should betake themselves to a garden seat under
the branches of a great horse-chestnut that grew in the boundary hedge.
Mrs. Beauchamp, however, would have heard no lover-like phrases could
she have listened to their matter-of-fact conversation.

"Well, have you decided what it is best for us to do?" said the girl, as
soon as they were seated.

"For goodness sake don't screech like that," Reggie reproved her, with
an apprehensive glance at the thick privet hedge that separated his
mother's premises from those next door. "That beast Lowch is probably on
the prowl over there, listening for all he's worth."

"That's where you're wrong," retorted Enid promptly, but, nevertheless,
lowering her voice. "As I came up the street Mr. Lowch was up to his old
game--walking up and down in fron