adventure. On pushing open the door she
had an impression of two black coat tails disappearing through the
French windows into the garden. With perilous despatch she set down
the tray and rushed out to the gravel path, calling loudly to Flora.
Flora, arrayed in a greasy blue overall, came hurrying from the garage
where she had been spending the day tinkering with the car.

"Yes, what is it?" she cried.

Jane was pointing down a grove of Dorothy Perkins at the end of which a
stout figure in black was retreating.

"That old clergyman!"

"What about him?"

"I'll swear he was in this room when I brought in the tea."

"You sure?"

"Positive. I saw him pass the house two or three times this morning
and yesterday too."

"Half a mo," said Flora and hurried over to the writing table. "I say,
haven't these papers been moved?"

"Yes, they have. My eye! it's exciting. What do you make of it?"

"Something fishy."

"Do you think--do you possibly think it's anything to do with Mr.
Anthony?"

Jane's eyes sparkled like jewels at the very thought of anything so
adorable.

"I bet it has," said Flora. "What else could it be?"

"Might be just a rotten burglary."

"Chuck it," said Flora. "Don't spoil a decent show."

"I don't want to. But didn't she tell you Mr. Anthony had spoofed the
crowd that were against him?"

"Um! But they were a downey lot and p'raps after all they didn't buy
the spoof."

"Wouldn't it be terrific," exclaimed Jane, clasping her hands,
"wouldn't it be terrific if there was a dust up down here and we were
in it."

"Shut up," Flora implored, "it's a jolly sight too good to be true.
Better light the spirit lamp, the old lady'll be in to tea directly."

The words were scarcely spoken before a shadow was cast across the
floor and Mrs. Barraclough appeared at the window carrying a basket of
roses.

"Conybeare," she said, addressing the old Devonian gardener who was
trimming the borders a few yards away. "Conybeare, I am going down to
Mrs. Brassbound later in the evening. I want you to cut me a nice
bunch of grapes and some vegetables--nice ones."

The old fellow touched his cap and moved away. Mrs. Barraclough
entered smilingly.

"And I shall want the car, Flora."

"It's all ready. I'll bring it round, madam."

"There's no hurry. Aren't these roses delicious?" She buried her face
in the orgy of pink, crimson and yellowy-white blooms. "Give me that
bowl, my dear."

And w