blems that it was part of his functions
to solve. The porter informed him that a young lady had just driven up
in a carriage ostensibly to see Mr. Rushbrook, and James, descending to
the outer vestibule, found himself face to face with Miss Grace
Nevil. Happily, that young lady, with her usual tact, spared him some
embarrassment.

"Oh! James," she said sweetly, "do you think that I could see Mr.
Rushbrook for a few moments IF I WAITED FOR THE OPPORTUNITY? You
understand, I don't wish to disturb him or his company by being
regularly announced."

The young girl's practical intelligence appeared to increase the usual
respect which James had always shown her. "I understand, miss." He
thought for a moment, and said: "Would you mind, then, following me
where you could wait quietly and alone?" As she quickly assented, he
preceded her up the staircase, past the study and drawing-room, which
he did not enter, and stopped before a small door at the end of the
passage. Then, handing her a key which he took from his pocket, he said:
"This is the only room in the house that is strictly reserved for Mr.
Rushbrook, and even he rarely uses it. You can wait here without anybody
knowing it until I can communicate with him and bring you to his study
unobserved. And," he hesitated, "if you wouldn't mind locking the door
when you are in, miss, you would be more secure, and I will knock when I
come for you."

Grace Nevil smiled at the man's prudence, and entered the room. But
to her great surprise, she had scarcely shut the door when she was
instantly struck with a singular memory which the apartment recalled.
It was exactly like the room she had altered in Rushbrook's villa at Los
Osos! More than that, on close examination it proved to be the very same
furniture, arranged as she remembered to have arranged it, even to the
flowers and grasses, now, alas! faded and withered on the walls. There
could be no mistake. There was the open ebony escritoire with the
satin blotter open, and its leaves still bearing the marks of her own
handwriting. So complete to her mind was the idea of her own tenancy in
this bachelor's mansion, that she looked around with a half indignant
alarm for the photograph or portrait of herself that might further
indicate it. But there was no other exposition. The only thing that had
been added was a gilt legend on the satin case of the blotter,--"Los
Osos, August 20, 186-," the day she had occupied the room.

She was