h a little time previously.

She saw the man raise his hat politely at some question from the
clergyman, then she saw his face change to a startled expression, and
instantly Mary understood.

"I know who it is," she said half aloud. "It is Stephen Richford in
disguise. He has been to see his wife. I should like to know what they
are talking about."

The trio were talking very earnestly indeed now. Just for the moment it
had looked as if the man called Reggie and the woman called Cora had
decided to give Richford the cold shoulder. But he had said a few words,
and the scene was suddenly changed. The three walked off together and
turned into a small restaurant a little way down the street.

Moved by a feeling which she would have had some trouble to explain,
Mary followed. In some vague way she felt that Beatrice was in danger.
The restaurant was by no means a fashionable one, and few people were
there. Mary noticed, too, that the inside was divided into compartments
in the old-fashioned way. She stepped into the box next the one where
the three conspirators were seated and ordered a cup of tea. It was a
satisfaction to the girl to know that she could hear all that was being
said in the other box. She heard the popping of a champagne cork,
speedily followed by another. She had only to sit there and listen. She
had forgotten all about Beatrice by this time.

"Wine like that puts life into a man," she heard Richford say.

"And gives him a tongue too," the man called Reggie laughed. "Deadly
expensive stuff unless you can see some reasonable return for your
outlay in the near future. Come, Richford, we are both eager to know how
you propose to put money into our pockets."

"And yet I can put a lot," Richford said. "Oh, you need not be afraid of
that crooked little devil at Wandsworth, for he shall not know anything
about it. What do you say to L10,000 apiece and nobody any the wiser?
Doesn't that make your mouth water?"

"It would if you could show me the way," Reggie said. "But in the most
delicate way possible, my dear Richford, let me put it to you--that you
are under a cloud at present. And why do you offer to divide the plunder
in this very irrational way?"

"Simply because I _am_ under a cloud," Richford growled. "I'm powerless
and desperate. I don't even know where to turn for a night's lodging.
Now look here, the matter may take a day or two, and in the meantime
I've got to put up somewhere. And as a warrant