ecommendations."

Jean sat down slowly in the padded Venetian chair before her writing
table.

"Jaggs?" she asked.

"Yes, miss."

"And why didn't you come here at once?"

"I thought I might be followed, miss."

The girl bit her lip and nodded.

"You did quite right," she said, and then after a moment's reflection,
"We shall be in Paris next week. You had better go by the night train
and wait for us at the flat."

She gave the maid some money and after she had gone, sat for an hour
before the fire looking into its red depths.

She rose at last a little stiffly, pulled the heavy silken curtain
across the windows and switched on the light, and there was a smile on
her face that was very beautiful to see. For in that hour came an
inspiration.

She sought her father in his study and told him her plan, and he
blanched and shivered with the very horror of it.

Chapter XII

Mr. Briggerland, it seemed, had some other object in life than the
regeneration of the criminal classes. He was a sociologist--a loose
title which covers a great deal of inquisitive investigation into other
people's affairs. Moreover, he had published a book on the subject. His
name was on the title page and the book had been reviewed to his credit;
though in truth he did no more than suggest the title, the work in
question having been carried out by a writer on the subject who, for a
consideration, had allowed Mr. Briggerland to adopt the child of his
brain.

On a morning when pale yellow sunlight brightened his dining-room, Mr.
Briggerland put down his newspaper and looked across the table at his
daughter. He had a club in the East End of London and his manager had
telephoned that morning sending a somewhat unhappy report.

"Do you remember that man Talmot, my dear?" he asked.

She nodded, and looked up quickly.

"Yes, what about him?"

"He's in hospital," said Mr. Briggerland. "I fear that he and Hoggins
were engaged in some nefarious plan and that in making an attempt to
enter--as, of course, they had no right to enter--a block of flats in
Cavendish Place, poor Talmot slipped and fell from the fourth floor
window-sill, breaking his leg. Hoggins had to carry him to hospital."

The girl reached for bacon from the hot plate.

"He should have broken his neck," she said calmly. "I suppose now the
police are making tender inquiries?"

"No, no," Mr. Briggerland hastened to assure her. "Nobody knows anything
about it, not even