nd the crank?"

"Exactly. She married an artist named Lyons, who came sketching
on the moor. He proved to be a blackguard and deserted her. The
fault from what I hear may not have been entirely on one side.
Her father refused to have anything to do with her because she
had married without his consent, and perhaps for one or two other
reasons as well. So, between the old sinner and the young one the
girl has had a pretty bad time."

"How does she live?"

"I fancy old Frankland allows her a pittance, but it cannot be
more, for his own affairs are considerably involved. Whatever she
may have deserved one could not allow her to go hopelessly to the
bad. Her story got about, and several of the people here did
something to enable her to earn an honest living. Stapleton did
for one, and Sir Charles for another. I gave a trifle myself. It
was to set her up in a typewriting business."

He wanted to know the object of my inquiries, but I managed to
satisfy his curiosity without telling him too much, for there is
no reason why we should take anyone into our confidence.
To-morrow morning I shall find my way to Coombe Tracey, and if I
can see this Mrs. Laura Lyons, of equivocal reputation, a long
step will have been made towards clearing one incident in this
chain of mysteries. I am certainly developing the wisdom of the
serpent, for when Mortimer pressed his questions to an
inconvenient extent I asked him casually to what type Frankland's
skull belonged, and so heard nothing but craniology for the rest
of our drive. I have not lived for years with Sherlock Holmes for
nothing.

I have only one other incident to record upon this tempestuous
and melancholy day. This was my conversation with Barrymore just
now, which gives me one more strong card which I can play in due
time.

Mortimer had stayed to dinner, and he and the baronet played
ecarte afterwards. The butler brought me my coffee into the
library, and I took the chance to ask him a few questions.

"Well," said I, "has this precious relation of yours departed, or
is he still lurking out yonder?"

"I don't know, sir. I hope to heaven that he has gone, for he has
brought nothing but trouble here! I've not heard of him since I
left out food for him last, and that was three days ago."

"Did you see him then?"

"No, sir, but the food was gone when next I went that way."

"Then he was certainly there?"

"So you would think, sir, unless it was the other man who took
i