tor, but a good deal
of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing; never calls less than once a
day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton of the Inner Temple. See
the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a
dozen times from Serpentine Mews, and knew all about him. When I had
listened to all that they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near
Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign.

"This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He
was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them,
and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his
friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the
photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue
of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony
Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It
was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that
I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little
difficulties, if you are to understand the situation."

"I am following you closely," I answered.

"I was still balancing the matter in my mind, when a hansom cab drove up
to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprung out. He was a remarkably handsome
man, dark, aquiline, and mustached--evidently the man of whom I had heard.
He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and
brushed past the maid who opened the door, with the air of a man who was
thoroughly at home.

"He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him
in the windows of the sitting room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly
and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently he emerged,
looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he
pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly. 'Drive
like the devil!' he shouted, 'first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street,
and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea
if you do it in twenty minutes!'

"Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to
follow them, when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman with
his coat only half buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags
of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn't pulled up
before she shot out of the hall door and into it