rn navigation.
Now, what connection there can be between that and his being murdered
a dozen miles inland--"

But here he broke off, and we both looked up and across the stream
as, with a click of the latch, the door there creaked and opened, and
Miss Belcher entered the garden. She wore an orange-coloured
dressing-gown, top-boots to guard her ankles from the morning dew, a
red kerchief tied over her brow to keep her iron-grey locks in place,
and over it her customary beaver hat--_et vera incessu patit dea_.
Even thus attired did Miss Belcher, a goddess of the dawn, come
striding over the footbridge and across the turf to us; and the
effect of the apparition upon Captain Branscome's nerves, after a
night of travel alongside Russell's van, I can only surmise.
I did not observe it, having for the moment no eyes for him.

"Hallo!" said Miss Belcher, walking straight up to us, and halting,
with a hand planted, washerwoman fashion, on either hip, as Captain
Branscome staggered to his feet and saluted. "Hallo! who's this?"

"Captain Branscome, ma'am," stammered I.

"I thought as much. And what is Captain Branscome doing here?"

"By your leave, ma'am," said Captain Branscome, "I--I was just
dropping in for a talk here with my friend Harry Brooks."

"H'm!" sniffed Miss Belcher, and eyed him up and down for a full ten
seconds with an uncompromising stare. "As an explanation, sir, you
will allow that to be a trifle unsatisfactory. What have you been
eating lately?"

"Madam?"

Captain Branscome stared at her in weak bewilderment; and, indeed,
the snort which accompanied Miss Belcher's question seemed to accuse
him of impregnating the morning air with a scent of onions.

"You can answer a plain question, I hope?" said she. "When did you
eat last, and what was it?"

"To be precise, ma'am--though I don't understand you--it was an
apple, and about--let me see--seven hours ago."

Miss Belcher turned to me and nodded.

"In other words, the man's starving. I don't blame you, Harry
Brooks. One can't look for old heads on young shoulders. But, for
goodness' sake, take him into the house and give him something to
eat!"

"Madam--" again began Captain Branscome, still a prey to that mental
paralysis which Mrs. Belcher's costume and appearance ever produced
upon strangers, and for which she never made the smallest allowance.

"Don't tell me!" she snapped. "I breed stock and I buy 'em. I know
the signs."

"I was