e on purpose immediately on learning your
address. Have news of vital importance to give you about your son."

Lady B. couldn't think what it all meant; but she was anxious, and we
were curious. She and Pa calculated times, and discovered that if we
went away by the first train we would miss the mysterious Mr. Payne, so
it was decided that we must wait till the next, and a telegram was sent
to an address in Naples to that effect.

In the morning, as early as he could, he arrived. I was on the verandah
of the hotel, watching, dressed in my travelling frock, so as to be
ready to get off by the next train. When a stranger came running up the
steps asking for Lady Brighthelmston, you can believe I kept my eyes
open, though I pretended to be reading an awfully exciting book of Guy
Boothby's--really _great_! He was young, and evidently American, but
very handsome, and the best of form; blond, tall, and smooth-faced, with
such a clever expression, and _unfathomable_ eyes. He was shown in; but
as Lady B.'s sitting-room had a window opening on the verandah, with the
blinds only half shut, I could presently hear from where I sat a murmur
of voices which I knew to be hers and his. Just as Pa had joined me, and
was asking whether the gentleman had turned up yet, there came a stifled
shriek from Lady B.'s room. We jumped up, rushed to the window, and met
her there as she was running out to call us, crying, with Mr. Payne at
her back. We went in, and she made him tell his story, which was very
complicated. However, we soon understood that the Honourable Mr.
Winston's _chauffeur_ had stolen his motor-car, and his watch (which Mr.
Payne had got out of pawn and shown to Lady B.) and his clothes, and
probably murdered him. Lady B. hadn't had any letter for ages; she had
supposed that was because she was travelling about so much lately and
had missed them, but now she saw that _anything_ might easily have
happened to her son. Everything was frightfully confused and exciting,
and while Pa tried to soothe Lady B., Mr. Payne and I stepped out on the
verandah to talk things over quietly, as I had kept my head. He showed
wonderful detective gifts, and from some details he told me about the
girl and a middle-aged American lady, friends of his, whom the
_chauffeur_ had deceived, I began to think it might be the party I had
seen in Blois, only with a different car; but that, as I said to Mr.
Payne, must have been before any tragedy had taken plac