y. "Now please tell me,
Mr. Gifford, what I am longing to hear."

"You will remember," Gifford began, as they slowly paced the moon-lit
path, "that on the evening I came down here my suitcase containing my
evening clothes had gone astray on the railway. There was no chance of
its turning up at the hotel before ten o'clock, and I was therefore
prevented from appearing at the dance till quite late. Naturally I would
not hear of Kelson waiting for me, which like the good-natured fellow he
is, he proposed to do; he therefore went off in good time."

"Yes; I remember he arrived quite early," Edith Morriston murmured.

"Clement Henshaw," Gifford proceeded, "left the hotel about the
same time. They must have reached your house within a few minutes
of one another."

As he paused, his companion looked round at him inquiringly. "Yes," she
said, with a certain suggestion of reticence; "I remember that too."

Gifford continued. "Having seen Kelson off, I went up to our sitting-room
to wait till my kit should arrive. I was very keen on seeing again the
old place where in my young days I used to spend such happy months, and
my enforced waiting soon became almost intolerable boredom. The result
was that I got a fit of the fidgets; I could not settle down to read, and
at last, having still an hour to spare, I resolved in my restlessness to
stroll out and take a preliminary look from outside at what was
practically my old home."

"Yes." There was a catch of growing excitement in Edith Morriston's
voice, which was scarcely above a whisper.

"The wind was sharp that night, as we all know," Gifford went on, "and
forbade loitering. A smart walk of fifteen or twenty minutes brought me
here, knowing as I did every path and short cut across the park. The old
familiar house looked picturesque enough with its many lighted windows
and every sign of gaiety. Keeping away from the front entrance where
carriages were constantly driving up and a good many people were about, I
went round to the other side, avoiding the stables and passing along by
the west wing. This, of course, brought me to the old tower, the scene of
many a game and frolic in my young days. At its foot I stood for a while
recalling memories of the past. In the mere idleness of affectionate
remembrance I went up to the garden door of the tower and mechanically
turned the handle. It was unlocked.

"I hardly know what made me go in; an impulse to stand again in those
once fami