ell. That I had
seen her and would give him all necessary particulars when I came to
interview him later in the day. To his uneasy questions I vouchsafed
little reply. I was by no means sure of the advisability of taking him
into my full confidence. It was enough for him to know that his demands
had been complied with without injury to the child.

Before hanging up the receiver, I put him a question on my own behalf.
How was the boy in his charge? The growl he returned me was very
non-committal, and afforded me some food for thought as I turned back to
Mrs. Carew's cottage, where I now proposed to make a final visit.

I entered from the road. The heavily wooded grounds looked desolate. The
copper beeches which are the glory of the place seemed to have lost
color since I last saw them above the intervening hedges. Even the
house, as it gradually emerged to view through the close shrubbery, wore
a different aspect from usual. In another moment I saw why. Every
shutter was closed and not a vestige of life was visible above or below.
Startled, for I had not expected quite so hasty a departure on her part,
I ran about to the side door where I had previously entered and rang fit
to wake the dead. Only solitary echoes came from within and I was about
to curse the time I had lost in telephoning to Doctor Pool, when I heard
a slight sound in the direction of the private path, and, leaping
hastily to the opening, caught the glimpse of something or somebody
disappearing down the first flight of steps.

Did I run? You may believe I did, at least till I had descended the
first terrace; then my steps grew gradually wary and finally ceased; for
I could hear voices ahead of me on the second terrace to which I had now
come, and these voices came from persons standing still. If I rushed on
I should encounter these persons, and this was undesirable. I
accordingly paused just short of the top, and so heard what raised the
moment into one of tragic importance.

One of the speakers was Mrs. Carew--there was no doubting this--the
other was Mr. Rathbone. From no other lips than his could I hope to hear
words uttered with such intensity, though he was guarded in his speech,
or thought he was, which is not always the same thing.

He was pleading with her, and my heart stood still with the sense of
threatening catastrophe as I realized the attitude of the pair. He, as
every word showed, was still ignorant of Gwendolen's fate, consequently
of