tle something even in
his appearance, somewhat belied the term. Anyhow, gentleman let us call
him.'

Lawford, all attention, nodded, and encouragingly smiled.

'I'm not one of those tiresome, suspicious people, Mr Lawford, who
distrust strangers. I have never been molested, and I have enjoyed many
and many a most interesting, and sometimes instructive, talk with an
individual whom I've never seen in my life before, and this side of the
grave perhaps, am never likely to see again.' She lifted her head with
pursed lips, and gravely yet still flickeringly regarded him once more.
'Well, I made some trifling remark--the weather, the view, what-not,'
she explained with a little jerk of her shoulder--'and to my extreme
astonishment he turned and addressed me by name--Miss Sinnet.
Unmistakably--Sinnet. Now, perhaps, and very rightly, you won't
considered THAT a very peculiar thing to do? But you will recollect, Mr
Lawford, that I had been sitting there a considerable time. Surely, now,
if you had recognised my face you would have addressed me at once?'

'Was he, do you think, Miss Sinnet, a little uncertain, perhaps?'

'Never mind, never mind; let me get on with my story first. The next
thing my gentleman does is more mysterious still. His whole manner was
a little peculiar, perhaps--a certain restlessness, what, in fact, one
might be almost tempted to call a certain furtiveness of behaviour.
Never mind. What he does next is to ask me a riddle! Perhaps you won't
think that was peculiar either?'

'What was the riddle?' smiled Lawford.

'Why, to be sure, to guess his name! Simply guided, so I surmised,
by some very faint resemblance in his face to his MOTHER, who was,
he assured me, an old schoolfellow of mine at BRIGHTON. I thought
and thought. I confess the adventure was beginning to be a little
perplexing. But of course, very, very few of my old schoolfellows remain
distinctly in my memory now; and I fear that grows more treacherous the
longer I live. Their faces as girls are clear enough. But later in life
most of them drifted out of sight--many, alas, are dead; and, well, at
last I narrowed my man down to one. And who now, do you suppose that
was?'

Lawford sustained an expression of abysmal mystification. 'Do tell
me--who?'

'Your own poor dear mother, Mr Lawford.'

'HE said so?'

'No, no,' said the old lady, with some vexation, closing her eyes. 'I
said so. He asked me to guess. And I guessed Mary Lawford; now