r thought it was as bad as that."

"We! Who are we?" Mr Vanburgh's fingers closed over her hand, and he
held it firmly in his own, while he gazed at her with a gentleness of
mien before which Nan's resolution died a sudden death.

"My--my sisters!" she stammered humbly. "Oh, Mr Vanburgh, forgive me.
I'm Nan Rendell. I live in the house just across the road. I'm not an
old woman at all, only a stupid girl dressed up. I never meant to come,
but Chrissie dared me, and I thought I would come to the door and ring,
to give her a fright. I never thought you would let me in. You had
refused to see all other visitors. My father and mother called, and Mr
and Mrs Maitland--"

"They did, and many others. It was very kind, but I felt too ill to
receive them. With you, however, it was different, for I seemed to know
you already. I had seen so much of your life through `my study
window'--"

"Saw me! Then you knew all the time who I was? You knew--"

"I did! Yes. It was very interesting. I wondered how long you could
keep it up."

"But how--how?"

Mr Vanburgh smiled quietly.

"My couch is placed near the window, and during my long lonely days I
devote a good deal of attention to the passers-by. About three o'clock
this afternoon I observed a black robed figure steal out of your side
gate and approach the front door. I saw her admitted by the servant. I
saw her go out once again, and, like her sisters, kept watch for her
return."

"And you saw Chrissie point across to your door, and heard my ring?"

"I did. And rang myself, to give orders that you should be admitted.
That is the true and authentic account of the mystery. It is not so
mysterious after all, is it?"

"It's very embarrassing!" Nan was suddenly overcome by a consciousness
of how ridiculous she must have appeared in her assumed character, and
collapsed into feeble laughter, "What _must_ you think of me?"

"To tell the truth, I prefer your ordinary appearance. It is difficult
to recognise you in this attire. Would you think it a liberty if I
asked you to resume your ordinary guise? Please!" and he waved his hand
with an appeal which had in it an element of authority, despite all its
courtesy. Nan felt very small, very much like a mischievous child who
has spilt the ink-bottle, and is sent upstairs to be washed and tidied;
but, all the same, she was not sorry to remove the ugly trappings, and
appear in her true guise once more. Bonnet,