not volunteer her own name. Furthermore, she remained
throughout with her back to the window.

"Never," I replied; "it is very interesting in many ways, I believe."

"You will find Friar's Park most fascinating," she assured me. "It
stands upon the site of one of the oldest and largest monasteries in
the south of England. Indeed, some parts of the house, notably the
chapel and the west tower, which is visible from here, I think, are
remains of the original building."

She was palpably trying to interest me; and conscious that my somewhat
frigid attitude was churlish, if she was really what she professed to
be--namely, a friend of Lady Coverly's--I endeavored in turn to
display an intelligent interest in the history of the old monastic
house.

I do not regret that I did so. I think that I have never heard the dry
bones of history clothed so fascinatingly. The knowledge displayed by
my unknown visitor of the history of that old monkish corner of
England was truly amazing. The Coverlys, it appeared, had played their
part in that history right back to the misty times of Saxon England.
The scenes conjured up by my first sight of the curiously wild country
which lay between the village and the distant parkland were presented
now with all the color and truth of real life. This woman seemingly
was acquainted with almost every act of importance of every Coverly
since the days of Canute and with the doings of all the abbots who had
ever ruled over Croix-de-Lis.

Finally, while I listened in ever growing wonder, fascinated by the
extent of this strange woman's knowledge and in part, too, by the
husky music of her voice, she seemed to become conscious of the
passage of time and, rising suddenly, she laughed; and her laughter
again awakened a memory.

"How perfectly absurd of me, Mr. Addison!" she said. "You will
certainly think I am more than eccentric to sit here fulfilling the
part of a local guide."

Even as she spoke the words, a sound intruded from the road outside. A
heavy footstep came first, the footstep of one who approached the door
of the inn; then:

"Martin!" I heard; "a moment, please."

It was Dr. Damar Greefe!

If the sound of his voice had startled me, its effect upon my visitor
was truly singular. Taking a swift step towards me, she grasped my arm
with her strangely slender gloved hand. Now that she stood so close to
me, I realized that she was even taller than I had supposed, nearly as
tall as myself