neath the moor had been tunnelled left
and right by the seekers after tin and lead, Moor Cottage might have
stood in the centre of a hive of industry. The ramshackle remains of the
miners' cottage were to be seen on the other side of the hill; the
broken and deserted headgear of the pit, and the discoloured chimney of
the old power house were still visible a quarter of a mile from the
cottage.

It suited the owner of the Secret House, however, to have this little
cottage erected, though it was nearly two miles from the Secret House,
and he had spared neither expense nor trouble in preparing a handsome
interior.

Lady Constance Dex had been the recipient of many gifts from Mr.
Farrington and his friends. There had been a period when Farrington
could not do enough for her, and had showered upon her every mark of his
esteem, and Moor Cottage had perhaps been the most magnificent of these
presents. Here she could find seclusion, and in the pretty oak-panelled
rooms reconstruct those happy days which Great Bradley had at one time
offered to her.

"It is a little lonely," she smiled at her brother.

She had a good-natured contempt for his opinion. He was a large,
lethargic man, who had commonplace views on all subjects.

"But really you know, Jerry, I am quite a capable person, and Brown
will be near by, in case of necessity."

He nodded, and addressed himself again to the _Times_, the perusal of
which she had interrupted.

"I have nothing more to say," he said from behind his newspaper. By and
by he put it down.

"Who is this Mr. Smith?" he asked, suddenly.

"Mr. Smith?" she said, with interest. "Which Mr. Smith are you referring
to?"

"I think he is a detective person," said the Reverend Jeremiah Bangley;
"he has honoured us with a great number of visits lately."

"You mean----?"

"I mean Great Bradley," he explained. "Do you think there is anything
wrong at the Secret House?"

"What could there be wrong," she asked, "that has not been wrong for the
last ten or twenty years?"

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

"I have never quite approved of the Secret House," he said,
unnecessarily.

She finished her hurried breakfast and rose.

"You have never approved of anything, Jerry," she said, tapping him on
the shoulder as she passed.

She looked through the window; the victoria she had ordered was waiting
at the door, with the imperturbable Brown sitting on the box.

"I shall be back to lunch," she sai