s here
and there, a work-basket put neatly away for the Sabbath, and an open
piano with one of Chopin's works upon the music-rest. Leading out of the
drawing-room was a small conservatory, filled with plants. It was a
pretty little place and I could not refrain from exploring it. I am
passionately fond of flowers, but my life at that time was not one that
permitted me much leisure to indulge in my liking. As I stood now,
however, in the charming place, among the rows of neatly-arranged pots,
I experienced a sort of waking dream. I seemed to see myself standing in
this very conservatory, hard at work upon my flowers, a pipe in my mouth
and my favourite old felt hat upon my head. Crime and criminals were
alike forgotten; I no longer lived in a dingy part of the Town, and what
was better than all I had----

"Do you know I feel almost inclined to offer you the proverbial penny,"
said Miss Kitwater's voice behind me, at the drawing-room door. "Is it
permissible to ask what you were thinking about?"

I am not of course prepared to swear it, but I honestly believe for the
first time for many years, I blushed.

"I was thinking how very pleasant a country life must be," I said,
making the first excuse that came to me. "I almost wish that I could
lead one."

"Then why don't you? Surely it would not be so very difficult?"

"I am rather afraid it would," I answered. "And yet I don't know why it
should be."

"Perhaps Mrs. Fairfax would not care about it," she continued, as we
returned to the drawing-room together.

"Good gracious!" I remarked. "There is no Mrs. Fairfax. I am the most
confirmed of old bachelors. I wonder you could not see that. Is not the
word _crustiness_ written plainly upon my forehead?"

"I am afraid I cannot see it," she answered. "I am not quite certain who
it was, but I fancy it was my uncle who informed me that you
were married."

"It was very kind of him," I said. "But it certainly is not the case. I
fear my wife would have rather a lonely time of it if it were. I am
obliged to be away from home so much, you see, and for so long at
a time."

"Yours must be indeed a strange profession, Mr. Fairfax, if I may say
so," she continued. "Some time ago I came across an account, in a
magazine, of your life, and the many famous cases in which you had
taken part."

"Ah! I remember the wretched thing," I said. "I am sorry that you should
ever have seen it."

"And why should you be sorry?"

"Because it