a "crook."

"Well, Ewart?" he asked. "And how goes things? Who's this old crone
we've got in tow? A soft thing, Bindo says."

I told him all I knew concerning her, and he appeared to be reassured.
He had taken a room at the Grand, he told me, and I afterwards found
that on the following morning Bindo pretended to discover him at the
hotel, and introduced him to the unsuspecting old lady as young Lord
Kelham. Mrs. Clayton was delighted at thus extending her
acquaintanceship with England's bluest blood.

That same afternoon the old lady, who seemed to be of a rather sporting
turn of mind, expressed a desire to ride upon a racing-car; therefore I
brought round the "forty," and Bindo drove her over to Malton, where we
had tea, and a quick run back in the evening. There are no police-traps
on the road between Scarborough and York, therefore we were able to put
on a move, and the old lady expressed the keenest delight at going so
fast. As I sat upon the step at her feet, she seemed constantly alarmed
lest I should fall off.

"My own cars never go so quickly," she declared. "My man drives at
snail's pace."

"Probably because you have traps in Northamptonshire," Bindo replied.
"There are always lurking constables along the Great North Road and the
highways leading into it. But you must let me come and take your
driver's place for a little while. If the cars are worth anything at
all, I'll get the last mile out of them."

"I only wish you would come and pay me a visit, Mr. Cornforth. I should
be so very delighted. Do you shoot?"

"A little," Bindo answered. "My friend, Sir Charles Sinclair, is said to
be one of the best shots in England. But I'm not much of a shot myself."

"Then can't you persuade him to come with you?"

"Well, I'll ask him," my employer replied. "He has very many
engagements, however. He's so well known--you see."

"He'll come if you persuade him, I'm sure," the old lady said, with what
she believed to be a winning smile. "You can drive my Mercedes, and he
can shoot. I always have a house-party through September, so you both
must join it. I'll make you as comfortable as I can in my humble house.
Paul will be at home."

"Humble, Mrs. Clayton? Why, I have, years ago, heard St. Mellions spoken
of as one of the show-houses of the Midlands."

"Then you've heard an exaggeration, my dear Mr. Cornforth," was her
response, as she laughed lightly. "Remember, I shall expect you, and you
can bring your own