ost Man's Lane, and find it somewhat too heavy
a one for my own handling."

To my surprise he showed this was more than he expected.

"You have?" he asked, with just that shade of incredulity which it is so
tantalizing to encounter. "Then I suppose congratulations are in order.
But are you sure, Miss Butterworth, that you really have obtained a clue
to the many strange and fearful disappearances which have given to this
lane its name?"

"Quite sure," I returned, nettled. "Why do you doubt it? Because I have
kept so quiet and not sounded one note of alarm from my whistle?"

"No," said he. "Knowing your self-restraint so well, I cannot say that
that is my reason."

"What is it, then?" I urged.

"Well," said he, "my real reason for doubting if you have been quite as
successful as you think, is that we ourselves have come upon a clue
about which there can be no question. Can you say the same of yours?"

You will expect my answer to have been a decided "Yes," uttered with all
the positiveness of which you know me capable. But for some reason,
perhaps because of the strange influence this man's personality
exercises upon all--yes, all--who do not absolutely steel themselves
against him, I faltered just long enough for him to cry:

"I thought not. The clue is outside the Knollys house, not in it, Miss
Butterworth, for which, of course, you are not to be blamed or your
services scorned. I have no doubt they have been invaluable in
unearthing _a_ secret, if not _the_ secret."

"Thank you," was my quiet retort. I thought his presumption beyond all
bounds, and would at that moment have felt justified in snapping my
fingers at the clue he boasted of, had it not been for one thing. What
that thing is I am not ready yet to state.

"You and I have come to issue over such matters before," said he, "and
therefore need not take too much account of the feelings it is likely to
engender. I will merely state that my clue points to Mother Jane, and
ask if you have found in the visit she paid at the house last night
anything which would go to strengthen the suspicion against her."

"Perhaps," said I, in a state of disdain that was more or less
unpardonable, considering that my own suspicions previous to my
discovery of the real tragedy enacted under my eyes at the Knollys
mansion had played more or less about this old crone.

"Only perhaps?" He smiled, with a playful forbearance for which I should
have been truly grateful to him