any way.

As we left the shop my charming hostess, who was equally beloved by
those in her own class and those out of it, turned round, and said
pleasantly: "We must hurry home now, Mrs Levret, but do come up
to-morrow and see Miss Bates. She does not leave me till the evening,
and I know you will enjoy having a talk with her."

Mrs Levret promised to come, and appeared next morning, having first
ascertained that the sceptical husband of my hostess would not be upon
the premises. "He does laugh at me so, ma'am," she said apologetically.
So she was brought straight up to my bedroom next day, and we had an
interesting talk over her own strange adventures.

Suddenly she looked up, and said: "_A propos des bottes._"

"How about that young man, ma'am? What are you going to do about him?"

"What young man?" I said, honestly puzzled. "And what can I do about any
young man?"

The Halifax incident had so completely faded from my mind that I could
not for the moment imagine what she meant.

"The young man you told me about yesterday afternoon, ma'am," Mrs Levret
answered stoutly.

"But I can't do anything about him. What _should_ I do?"

Then she took up her parable in these words:

"Well, ma'am, I have been thinking a deal about that young man since
yesterday. It seemed to take a sort of hold upon me. It seems given to
me, ma'am, _that it is a young woman who is haunting him--a young woman
who is not in his own rank in life--someone whom he wronged_."

I was amazed by these words, and still more by the keen interest Mrs
Levret showed in the subject.

"But what can _I_ do in the matter, even if it be as you say?" was my
next question.

"Well, ma'am, they give me to understand that the young man must be made
to confess. He will never have any peace until he does. It seems to me
_you_ might get him to confess."

Now there could be no question of confession on the outer plane, as the
young man was a perfect stranger to me, and there was small chance of
our ever meeting again.

But I was aware that Mrs Levret was not speaking of the outer plane, so
I agreed to take pencil and paper, and see if I could bring the spirit
of Henry Halifax to me, and having done so, whether I could induce him
to tell me the truth.

He came, but for a long time would say neither YES nor NO. "_What
business is it of yours?_" was the constant reply to my questions. And I
am bound to say it appeared a very pertinent one, from the ordinary