tress was weak in proportion.

"But that would have been of no use, as it happens," Janey put in--an
unexpected and welcome ally to Miss Marlett--"because you must have left
Paddington long before the question could have reached you."

This was unanswerable, as a matter of fact; and Miss Marlett could not
repress a grateful glance in the direction of her wayward pupil.

"Well," said Maitland, "it is all very provoking, and very serious. Can
you remember at all how the second message ran, Miss Marlett?"

"Indeed, I know it off by heart; it was directed exactly like that in
your hand, and was dated half an hour later. It ran: 'Plans altered.
Margaret required in town. My friend and her father's, Mr. Lithgow,
will call for her soon after mid-day. I noticed there were just twenty
words."

"And did you also notice the office from which the message was sent
out?"

"No," said Miss Marlett, shaking her head with an effort at
recollection. "I am afraid I did not notice."

"That is very unfortunate," said Maitland, walking vaguely up and down
the room. "Do you think the telegram is absolutely lost?"

"I have looked everywhere, and asked all the maids."

"When did you see it last, for certain?"

"I laid both despatches on the desk in my room when I went out to make
sure that Margaret had everything comfortable before she started."

"And where was this Mr. Lithgow then?"

"He was sitting over the fire in my room, trying to warm himself; he
seemed very cold."

"Clearly, then, Mr. Lithgow is now in possession of the telegram, which
he probably, or rather certainly, sent himself. But how he came to know
anything about the girl, or what possible motive he can have had--"
muttered Maitland to himself. "She has never been in any place, Miss
Marlett, since she came to you, where she could have made the man's
acquaintance?"

"It is impossible to say whom girls may meet, and how they may manage
it, Mr. Maitland," said Miss Marlett sadly; when Janey broke in:

"I am _sure_ Margaret never met him here. She was not a girl to have
such a secret, and she could not have acted a part so as to have taken
me in. I saw him first, out of the window. Margaret was very unhappy;
she had been crying. I said, 'Here's a gentleman in furs, Margaret; he
must have come for you.' Then she looked out and said, 'It is not my
guardian; it is the gentleman whom I saw twice with my father.'"

"What kind of a man was he to look at?"

"He was tall