.

"She has been to you," Beatrice gasped, "for a house? You are sure?"

"I am quite sure," Tavernake declared, calmly.

"You recognized her?"

He assented gravely.

"It was the woman who stood in the chemist's shop that night, signing
her name in a book," he said.

He did not apologize in any way for the shock he had given her. He
had done it deliberately. From that very first morning, when they had
breakfasted together at London Bridge, he had felt that he deserved
her confidence, and in a sense it was a grievance with him that she had
withheld it.

"Did she recognize you?"

"Yes," he admitted. "I was sent for into the office and found her there
with the chief. I felt sure that she recognized me from the first, and
when she agreed to look at Grantham House, she insisted upon it that I
should accompany her. While we were in the motor-car, she asked me about
you. She wished for your address."

"Did you give it to her?" the girl cried, breathlessly.

"No; I said that I must consult you first."

She drew a little sigh of relief. Nevertheless, she was looking white
and shaken.

"Did she say what she wanted me for?"

"She was very mysterious," Tavernake answered. "She spoke of some danger
of which you knew nothing. Before I came away, she offered me a hundred
pounds to let her know where you were."

Beatrice laughed softly.

"That is just like Elizabeth," she declared. "You must have made her
very angry. When she wants anything, she wants it very badly indeed, and
she will never believe that every person has not his price. Money means
everything to her. If she had it, she would buy, buy, buy all the time."

"On the face of it," Tavernake remarked, soberly, "her offer seemed
rather an absurd one. If she is in earnest, if she is really so anxious
to discover your whereabouts, she will certainly be able to do so
without my help."

"I am not so sure," Beatrice replied. "London is a great hiding place."

"A private detective," he began,--

Beatrice shook her head.

"I do not think," she said, "that Elizabeth will care to employ a
private detective. Tell me, have you to see her upon this business
again?"

"I am going to her flat at the Milan Court to-morrow morning at eleven
o'clock."

Beatrice leaned back in her chair. Presently she recommenced her dinner.
She had the air of one to whom a respite has been granted. Tavernake, in
a way, began to resent this continued silence of hers. He had certainly