safe as ever in my hands.

I have paid three visits, at certain intervals. The first to Winterfield
(briefly mentioned in my last letter); the second to Romayne; the third
to the invalid lady, Mrs. Eyrecourt. In every case I have been rewarded
by important results.

We will revert to Winterfield first. I found him at his hotel, enveloped
in clouds of tobacco smoke. Having led him, with some difficulty, into
talking of his visit to Ten Acres Lodge, I asked how he liked Romayne's
pictures.

"I envy him his pictures." That was the only answer.

"And how do you like Mrs. Romayne?" I inquired next.

He laid down his pipe, and looked at me attentively. My face (I flatter
myself) defied discovery. He inhaled another mouthful of tobacco, and
began to play with his dog. "If I must answer your question," he
burst out suddenly, "I didn't get a very gracious reception from Mrs.
Romayne." There he abruptly stopped. He is a thoroughly transparent man;
you see straight into his mind, through his eyes. I perceived that he
was only telling me a part (perhaps a very small part) of the truth.

"Can you account for such a reception as you describe?" I asked. He
answered shortly, "No."

"Perhaps I can account for it," I went on. "Did Mr. Romayne tell his
wife that I was the means of introducing you to him?"

He fixed another searching look on me. "Mr. Romayne might have said so
when he left me to receive his wife at the door."

"In that case, Mr. Winterfield, the explanation is as plain as the sun
at noonday. Mrs. Romayne is a strong Protestant, and I am a Catholic
priest."

He accepted this method of accounting for his reception with an alacrity
that would not have imposed on a child. You see I had relieved him from
all further necessity of accounting for the conduct of Mrs. Romayne!

"A lady's religious prejudices," I proceeded in the friendliest way,
"are never taken seriously by a sensible man. You have placed Mr.
Romayne under obligations to your kindness--he is eager to improve his
acquaintance with you. You will go again to Ten Acres Lodge?"

He gave me another short answer. "I think not."

I said I was sorry to hear it. "However," I added, "you can always see
him here, when you are in London." He puffed out a big volume of smoke,
and made no remark. I declined to be put down by silence and smoke. "Or
perhaps," I persisted, "you will honor me by meeting him at a simple
little dinner at my lodgings?" Being a gentleman,