n ex-soldier and a
worthy fellow whom she had engaged through an advertisement in the
_Surrey Advertiser_. He had been in the Queen's West Surrey, and his
home being in Guildford, Molly knew that he would serve as a testimonial
to her high respectability. Molly Maxwell was an outstandingly
clever woman. She never let a chance slip by that might be taken
advantageously.

Mead, who went on his "push-bike" every evening along the Hog's Back
to Guildford, was never tired of singing the praises of his generous
mistress.

"She's a real good sort," he would tell his friends in the bar of the
Lion or the Angel. "She knows how to treat a man. She's a widow, and
good-looking. I suppose she'll marry again. Nearly all the best people
about here have called on her within the last week or two. Magistrates
and their wives, retired generals, and lots of the gentry. Yes, my job
isn't to be sneezed at, I can tell you. It's better than driving a lorry
outside Ypres!"

Mrs. Bond treated Mead extremely well, and paid him well. She knew
that by so doing she would secure a good advertisement. She had done so
before, when four or five years ago she had lived at Keswick.

"Do you know, Charles," she said presently, "I'm really very
apprehensive regarding the present situation. Yvonne is, no doubt,
keeping a watchful eye upon the young fellow. But what can she do if
he has followed the Ranscomb girl and is with her each day? Each day,
indeed, must bring the pair closer together, and--"

"That's what we must prevent, my dear Molly!" exclaimed the lady's
visitor. "Think of all it means to us. You are quite safe here--as safe
as I am to-day. But we can't last out without money--either of us. We
must have cash-money--and cash-money always."

"Yes. That's so. But Yvonne is wonderful--amazing."

"She hasn't the same stake in the affair as we have."

"Why not?" asked the woman for whom the European police were in search.

"Well, because she is rich--she's won pots of money at the tables--and
we--well, both of us have only limited means. Yours, Molly, are larger
than mine--thanks to Frank. But I must have money soon. My expenses in
town are mounting up daily."

"But your rooms don't cost you very much! Old Mrs. Evans looks after
things as she has always done."

"Yes. But everything is going up in price, and remember, I dare not
cross the Channel just now. At Calais, Boulogne, Cherbourg, and other
places, they have my photograph, and they a