she had proposed to come on a visit to Rickwell, but
hitherto he had always managed to put her off. But her letters were
becoming very imperative, and he foresaw trouble. It was quite a relief
to Giles when the post arrived without a letter from this too persistent
and too charming lady. However, she did not trouble him on this especial
occasion, and he was thus enabled to give all his time to Mrs. Benker.

That good lady duly arrived, looking more severe than ever and with
several new tales about the iniquities of Alexander. She expressed
herself greatly obliged to Giles for giving her a day in the country,
and got on very well with the old housekeeper. But when Ware told her
his reason for asking her, Mrs. Benker grew rather nervous, as she did
not think how she could support an interview, and, also, she wanted to
know what the interview was for. To some extent Giles had to take her
into his confidence, but he suppressed the fact that he suspected
Franklin of the crime. He merely stated that Steel--who had introduced
Giles to Mrs. Benker--had reason to believe that the so-called Wilson
was wanted by the police. All that Mrs. Benker had to do was to see if
Franklin was really her former lodger. After much talk and many
objections, she consented to do what was wanted.

This was to wander in the park of the Priory and meet Franklin
accidentally near a ruined summer-house, near what was known as the
fish-ponds. Morley had arranged that Franklin should meet him there, and
was to be late, so as to afford Mrs. Benker an opportunity of speaking
to the man. Morley and Ware concealed themselves in the summer-house and
saw Mrs. Benker parading the grass. Shortly Franklin arrived, walking
slowly, and Mrs. Benker saluted him.

CHAPTER XIV

TREASURE TROVE

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Mrs. Benker to the new-comer, "but I do
hope I'm not---- Why"--she changed her tone to one of extreme
surprise--"if it ain't Mr. Wilson!"

The man did not move a muscle. Ware, who was watching, was disappointed.
At least he expected him to start, but the so-called Wilson was
absolutely calm, and his voice did not falter.

"You are making a mistake; my name is Franklin."

"It isn't his voice," muttered the landlady, still staring; "but his
eyes are the same."

"May I ask you to go?" said Franklin. "You are trespassing."

Mrs. Benker shook her rusty black bonnet.

"You may change your hair from red to black," she declared, "and y