o'd known her, or who'd been coached by someone."

"Dear Princess, you're so anxious for our happiness that I fear you're
thinking of impossible things. Who could have an object in parting Joyce
and me? I can think of no one. Still less could this stranger from
America have a motive, even if she lied, and really knew who I was
before she spoke to us at the Savoy."

"I admit it does sound just as impossible as you say!" I agreed,
forlornly. "But things that _sound_ impossible may be possible. And we
must find out. In justice to Joyce and yourself--even in justice to
June's spirit, which I _can't_ think would be so selfish--we must find
out!"

"What would you suggest?" Joyce asked rather timidly. But there was a
faint colour in her cheeks, like a spark in the ashes of hope.

"Detectives!" I said. "Or rather _a_ detective. I know a good man. He
served me very well once, when some of our family treasures disappeared
from Courtenaye Abbey, and it rather looked as if I'd stolen them
myself. He can learn without any shadow of doubt when Miss Reardon did
land, and when she came to London. Besides, he's sure to have colleagues
on the other side who can give him all sorts of details about the woman:
how she's thought of at home, whether she's ever been caught out as a
cheat, and so on. Will you both consent to that? Because if you will,
I'll 'phone to my man this moment."

They did consent. At least, Robert did, for Joyce left the decision
entirely to him. She was so afraid, poor girl, of seeming determined to
_hold_ him at any price, that she would hardly speak. As for Robert,
though he felt that I was justified in getting to the bottom of things,
I saw that he believed in the truth of the message he'd received. If it
were not the spirit of June who had come to command his allegiance, he
still had a right to his warm earthly happiness with Joyce Arnold. But
if it were indeed her spirit who claimed all he had to give for the rest
of life, it was a fair debt, and he would pay in full.

I received the detective (my old friend Smith) alone, in another room,
when he came. The necessary discussion would have been torture for
Robert and intolerable for Joyce. When Smith left I had at least this
encouragement to give the two: it would be simple to learn what I wished
to learn about Miss Reardon, on both sides of the Atlantic.

That was better than nothing. But it didn't make the dark watches of the
night less dark. I had an ugly