rible things
about women," she said.

Craven warmly defended himself against this abrupt accusation.

"Well, but what did you mean?" persisted Miss Van Tuyn. "Now, go against
your sex and be truthful for once to a woman."

"I really don't know exactly what I meant," said Craven. "But I suppose
it's possible to conceive of circumstances in which a woman might know
the identity of a thief and yet not wish to prosecute."

"Very well. I'll let you alone," she rejoined. "But this mystery makes
Lady Sellingworth more fascinating to me than ever. I'm not particularly
curious about other people. I'm too busy about myself for that. But
I would give a great deal to know a little more of her truth. Do you
remember her remark when I said 'I wish I had known you then'?"

"Yes. She said, 'You would not have known _me_ then.'"

"There have been two Adela Sellingworths. And I only know one. I do want
to know the other. But I am almost sure I never shall. And yet she's
fond of me. I know that. She likes my being devoted to her. I feel she's
a book of wisdom, and I have only read a few pages."

She walked on quickly with her light, athletic step. Just as they were
passing Hyde Park Corner she said:

"I think I shall go to one of the 'old guard.'"

"Why?" asked Craven.

"You ask questions to which you know the answers," she retorted.

And then they talked of other things.

When they reached the hotel and Craven was about to say good-bye, Miss
Van Tuyn said to him:

"Are you coming to see me one day?"

Her expression suggested that she was asking a question to which she
knew the answer, in this following the example just given to her by
Craven.

"I want to," he said.

"Then do give me your card."

He gave it to her.

"We both want to know her secret," she said, as she put it into her
card-case. "Our curiosity about that dear, delightful woman is a link
between us."

Craven looked into her animated eyes, which were strongly searching him
for admiration. He took her hand and held it for a moment.

"I don't think I want to know Lady Sellingworth's secret if she doesn't
wish me to know it," he said.

"Now--is that true?"

"Yes," he said, with a genuine earnestness which seemed to amuse her.
"Really, really it is true."

She sent him a slightly mocking glance.

"Well, I am less delicate. I want to know it, whether she wishes me to
or not. And yet I am more devoted to her than you are. I have known her
for quite