knew
very well. He pointed out that it was of no real consequence. She could
not tell him that if Tims suspected anything before the decisive step
was taken, one of the safeguards under which she took it might fail.

They found no exit at the end of the suite of rooms, still less any
place of concealment. Tims and Mr. Fitzalan came upon them discussing
the genuineness of a picture in the last room but one. When Tims saw
that it was Mildred, she made some of the most dreadful grimaces she had
ever made in her life. Making them, she approached Mildred, who seeing
there was no escape, turned around and greeted her with a welcoming
smile.

"Were you--were you sitting on that window-seat?" asked Tims, fixing her
with eyes that seemed bent on piercing to her very marrow.

Mildred smiled again, with a broader smile.

"I don't know about 'that window-seat.' I've sat on a good many
window-seats, naturally, since I set forth on this pilgrimage. Is there
anything particular about that one? I've never seen Hampton Court
before, Mr. Fitzalan, so as some people I knew were coming to-day, I
thought I'd come too. May I introduce Mr. Goring?"

So perfectly natural and easy was Mildred's manner, that Tims already
half disbelieved her own eyes. They must have played her some trick; yet
how could that be? She recalled the figures in the window-seat, as seen
with all the peculiar, artificial distinctness conferred by strong
glasses. The young man called Goring had smiled into the hidden face of
his companion in a manner that Tims could not approve. She made up her
mind that as soon as she had leisure she would call on Mildred and
question her once more, and more straitly, concerning the mystery of
that window-seat.

CHAPTER XXX

On Monday and Tuesday an interesting experiment which she was conducting
under Carus claimed Tims's whole attention, except for the evening
hours, which were dedicated to Mr. Fitzalan. But she wrote to say that
Mildred might expect her to tea on Wednesday. On Wednesday the post
brought her a note from Mildred, dated Tuesday, midnight.

"DEAR TIMS,--I am afraid you will not find me to-morrow
afternoon, as I am going out of town. But do go to tea with
Tony, who is just back from the sea and looking bonny. He is
such a darling! I always mind leaving him, although of
course I am not his mother. Oh, dear, I am so sleepy, I
hardly know what I am saying. Good-bye, Tims, dear.