new whim of Littimer's. He
wanted an assistant to catalogue and classify his pictures and prints,
and he had told the vicar so. He wanted a girl who wasn't a fool, a girl
who could amuse him and wouldn't be afraid of him, and he thought he
would have an American. To which the vicar responded that the whole
thing was nonsense, but he had heard of a Boston girl in England who had
a passion for that kind of thing and who was looking for a situation of
the kind in a genuine old house for a year or so. The vicar added that
he had not seen the young lady, but he could obtain her address. A reply
came in due course, a reply that so pleased the impetuous Earl that he
engaged the applicant on the spot. And now she had been just two hours
in the house.

"Well," Littimer cried, "and how have you been getting on?"

Miss Christabel Lee looked up, smilingly.

"I am getting on very well indeed," she said. "You see, I have made a
study of this kind of thing all my lifetime, and most of your pictures
are like old friends to me. Do you know, I fancy that you and I are going
to manage very well together?"

"Oh, do you? They say I am pretty formidable at times."

"I shan't mind that a bit. You see, my father was a man with a
villainous temper. But a woman can always get the better of a
bad-tempered man unless he happens to be one of the lower classes who
uses his boots. If he is a gentleman you have him utterly at your mercy.
Have you a sharp tongue?"

"I flatter myself I can be pretty blistering on occasions," Littimer
said, grimly.

"How delightful! So can I. You and I will have some famous battles later
on. Only I warn you that I never lose my temper, which gives me a
tremendous advantage. I haven't been very well lately, so you must be
nice to me for a week or two."

Littimer smiled and nodded. The grim lord of the castle was not
accustomed to this kind of thing, and he was telling himself that he
rather liked it.

"And now show me the Rembrandt," Miss Lee said, impatiently.

Littimer led the way to a distant alcove lighted from the side by a
latticed window. There was only one picture in the excellent light there,
and that was the famous Rembrandt engraving. Littimer's eyes lighted up
quite lovingly as they rested upon it. The Florentine frame was hung so
low that Miss Lee could bring her face on a level with it.

"This is the picture that was stolen from you?" she asked.

"Yes, that's the thing that there was all the