tten."

The Lavender Lady looked a trifle mystified.

"I don't think I quite understand, Miles dear."

Herrick, on his way to the door, stooped to kiss her.

"Neither do I, Lavender Lady. That's just the devil of it," he answered
cryptically.

He passed out of the room and upstairs, presently returning with a
couple of letters, held together by an elastic band, in his hand.

They smelt musty as he unfolded them; evidently they had not seen the
light of day for a good many years. But Miles seemed to find them of
extraordinary interest, for he subjected the closely written sheets to
a first, and second, and even a third perusal. Then he replaced the
elastic band round them and shut them away in a drawer, locking the
latter carefully.

A couple of days later, Garth Trent received a note from Herrick, asking
him to come and see him.

"You haven't been near us for days," it ran. "Remember Mahomet and the
mountain, and as I can't come to you, look me up."

The letter, in its quiet avoidance of any reference to recent events,
was like cooling rain falling upon a parched and thirsty earth.

Since the history of the court-martial had become common property, Garth
had been through hell. It was extraordinary how quickly the story had
leaked out, passing from mouth to mouth until there was hardly a
cottage in Monkshaven that was not in possession of it, with lurid and
fictitious detail added thereto.

The chambermaid at the Cliff Hotel had been the primary source of
information. From the further side of the connecting-door of an
adjoining room, she had listened with interest to the conversation which
had taken place between Elisabeth and Sara on the day following the
Haven Woods picnic, and had proceeded to circulate the news with the
avidity of her class. Nor had certain gossipy members of the picnic
party refrained from canvassing threadbare the significance of the
unfortunate scene which had taken place on that occasion--contributory
evidence to the truth of the chambermaid's account of what she had
overheard.

The whole town hummed with the tale, and Garth had not long been allowed
to remain in ignorance of the fact. Anonymous letters reached him almost
daily--for it must be remembered that ten years of an aloof existence
at Monkshaven had not endeared him to his neighbours. They had resented
what they chose to consider his exclusiveness, and, now that it was so
humiliatingly explained, the meaner spirits amo