d I went out into the drive, where Thorndyke and
the coachman were standing with three bicycles.

"I see you have brought your outfit," I said as we turned into the road;
for Thorndyke's machine bore a large canvas-covered case strapped on to
a strong bracket.

"Yes; there are many things that we may want on a quest of this kind.
How did you find Miss Haldean?"

"Very miserable, poor girl. By the way, have you heard anything about
her pecuniary interest in the child's death?"

"Yes," said Thorndyke. "It appears that the late Mr. Haldean used up all
his brains on his business, and had none left for the making of his
will--as often happens. He left almost the whole of his property--about
eighty thousand pounds--to his son, the widow to have a life-interest in
it. He also left to his late brother's daughter, Lucy, fifty pounds a
year, and to his surviving brother Percy, who seems to have been a
good-for-nothing, a hundred a year for life. But--and here is the utter
folly of the thing--if the son should die, the property was to be
equally divided between the brother and the niece, with the exception of
five hundred a year for life to the widow. It was an insane
arrangement."

"Quite," I agreed, "and a very dangerous one for Lucy Haldean, as things
are at present."

"Very; especially if anything should have happened to the child."

"What are you going to do now?" I inquired, seeing that Thorndyke rode
on as if with a definite purpose.

"There is a footpath through the wood," he replied. "I want to examine
that. And there is a house behind the wood which I should like to see."

"The house of the mysterious stranger," I suggested.

"Precisely. Mysterious and solitary strangers invite inquiry."

We drew up at the entrance to the footpath, leaving Willett the coachman
in charge of the three machines, and proceeded up the narrow track. As
we went, Thorndyke looked back at the prints of our feet, and nodded
approvingly.

"This soft loam," he remarked, "yields beautifully clear impressions,
and yesterday's rain has made it perfect."

We had not gone far when we perceived a set of footprints which I
recognized, as did Thorndyke also, for he remarked: "Miss
Haldean--running, and alone." Presently we met them again, crossing in
the opposite direction, together with the prints of small shoes with
very high heels. "Mrs. Haldean on the track of her niece," was
Thorndyke's comment; and a minute later we encountered them bo