ady for a wedding that was to take
place in the early winter, decided to spend the last few months of her
widowhood at her country house in Devonshire, and retired to it taking
her servants, her little son, and her son's governess with her.

For a day or two, Cleek "mooned" about--restless, lonely despite
Dollops's presence, finding no savour in anything; and it came as a
positive relief when a call from The Yard sent him to a modest little
house in the neighbourhood of Wandsworth Common. The "call" in question
took the shape of a letter from Mr. Narkom.

"My dear Cleek," it ran, "a most amazing case--probably _the_ most
amazing you have yet tackled--has just cropped up. The client is one
Captain Morrison, a retired Army officer living solely on his half pay.
His daughter is involved in the astonishing affair. Indeed, it is at her
earnest appeal that the matter has been brought to my notice. As the
Captain is in too weak a state of health to journey any distance, I am
going to ask you to meet me at No. 17, Sunnington Crescent,
Wandsworth--a house kept by one Mrs. Culpin, widow of one of my Yard
men, at three o'clock this afternoon. Knowing your reluctance to have
your identity disclosed, I have taken the liberty of giving you the name
you adopted in the Bawdrey affair, to wit: 'George Headland.' I have
also taken the same precaution with regard to the Morrisons, leaving you
to disclose your identity or not, as you see fit."

Glad enough for anything to distract his thoughts from the brooding
state of melancholy into which they had sunk, Cleek looked up a
time-table, caught the 2:47 train from Victoria Station; and Narkom,
walking into Mrs. Culpin's modest little drawing-room at two minutes
past three, found him standing in the window and looking thoughtfully
out at the groups of children romping on the near-by common.

"Well, here I am at last, you see, my dear fellow," he said, as he
crossed the room and shook hands with him. "Ripping day, isn't it? What
are you doing? Admiring the view or taking stock of Mrs. Culpin's
roses?"

"Neither. I was speculating in futures," replied Cleek, glancing back at
the sunlit common, and then glancing away again with a faintly audible
sigh. "How happy, how care-free they are, those merry little beggars,
Mr. Narkom. What you said in your letter set my thoughts harking
backward, and ... I was wondering what things the coming years might
hold for them and for their parents. At one t