thin, foreign-looking
notepaper, on which were two or three lines of typewriting:

"If you wish to save your cousin Barthorpe's life,
leave the church and speak to the lady whom you will find
in a private automobile at the entrance to the
churchyard."

CHAPTER XXX

THE WHITE-HAIRED LADY

The two young people who bent over this mysterious message in the shelter
of that old-fashioned pew were each conscious of a similar feeling--they
were thankful that they were together. Peggie Wynne had never been so glad
of anything in her life as for Selwood's immediate presence at that moment:
Selwood felt a world of unspeakable gratitude that he was there, just when
help and protection were wanted. For each recognized, with a sure instinct
and intuition, that those innocent-looking lines of type-script signified
much, heralded some event of dire importance. To save Barthorpe Herapath's
life!--that could only mean that somebody--the sender of the note--knew
that Barthorpe was innocent and some other person guilty.

For a moment the girl stared with startled eyes and flushed cheeks at
the scrap of paper; then she turned with a quick, questioning look at
her companion. And Selwood reached for his hat and his stick, and
murmured one word:

"Come!"

Peggie saw nothing of the surprised and questioning looks which were turned
on Selwood and herself as they left the pew and passed down the aisle of
the crowded church. She had but one thought--whom was she going to meet
outside, what revelation was going to be made to her? Unconsciously, she
laid a hand on Selwood's arm as they passed through the porch, and Selwood,
with a quick throb of pride, took it and held it. Then, arm in arm, they
walked out, and a verger who opened the outer door for them, smiled as they
passed him; he foresaw another passing-out, whereat Peggie would wear
orange blossoms.

The yard of this particular church was not a place of green sward,
ancient trees, and tumble-down tombs; instead it was an expanse of bare
flagstones, shut in by high walls which terminated at a pair of iron
gates. Outside those gates an automobile was drawn up; its driver stood
attentively at its door. Selwood narrowly inspected both, as he and
Peggie approached. The car was evidently a private one: a quiet, yet
smart affair; its driver was equally smart in his dark green livery. And
that he had received his orders was evident from the fact that as the
two you