usly as his sister spoke.

"Oh, indeed!" said Henry, without betraying any feeling.

CHAPTER XXIII

A TRAGIC ENDING

IT was on a Friday that Henry arrived at Hampton. He had expected a
telegram from Adrian Grant that evening, explaining his failure to join
him at St. Pancras, but no word was received. Nor did Saturday morning
bring a note. But it brought the morning papers and tragic news.

Henry was seated in the garden behind his father's house--a real
old-world garden, with rudely-made paths and a charming tangle of
flowers--gigantic hollyhocks, bright calceolarias, sweet-smelling
jasmine, stocks, early asters and chrysanthemums, growing in rich
profusion and in the most haphazard manner. The jasmine climbed over the
trellis-work of the summer-seat, made long years ago by the hands of
Edward John before he had grown stout and lazy, and now creaking aloud
to be repaired.

He had come out here with a Birmingham morning paper in his hand--a
paper which made his journalistic blood boil when he thought how
intolerably dull and self-sufficient it was--and he had only opened it
at the London letter when he saw a name that made him fumble the sheets
quickly into small compass for close reading--Adrian Grant!

A new book by him? a bit of personal gossip? No. He read:

"The literary world will be shocked this morning to hear of the
tragic death of Mr. Adrian Grant, the celebrated author of
'Ashes' and other novels, which have achieved great success in
this country and America. As is well known, the name of the
novelist is an assumed one, his own cognomen being the somewhat
curious one of Phineas Puddephatt. He was a gentlemen of private
means, and peculiar in his habits. There is probably no other
living writer of his eminence about whose private life less is
known. He was frequently absent from this country for long
periods, and cared little for the usual attractions of literary
life in London. This morning (Friday) he was found dead in his
apartments at Gloucester Road, Kensington, under mysterious
circumstances. He had intended leaving to-day for a short stay
in the country, but as he did not appear at breakfast at the
usual hour, and gave no response when summoned, the door of his
bedroom was opened, and he was not there, nor had his bed been
slept in. Entering his study, which adjoi