mother's place," he said.

The walk from the house to the station had been a long and tedious one.
The way back was surprisingly short, even though they walked at snail's
pace. There never was a courting such as Tarling's, and it seemed unreal
as a dream. The girl had a key of the outer gate and they passed through
together.

"Does your mother know that you are in Hertford?" asked Tarling suddenly.

"Yes," replied the girl. "I saw her before I came after you."

"Does she know----"

He did not care to finish the sentence.

"No," said the girl, "she does not know. Poor woman, it will break her
heart. She is--very fond of Milburgh. Sometimes he is most kind to
mother. She loves him so much that she accepted his mysterious comings
and goings and all the explanations which he offered, without suspicion."

They had reached the place where he had picked up the wallet, and above
him gloomed the dark bulk of the portico with its glass-house atop. The
house was in darkness, no lights shone anywhere.

"I will take you in through the door under the portico. It is the way Mr.
Milburgh always comes. Have you a light?"

He had his electric lamp in his pocket and he put a beam upon the
key-hole. She inserted the key and uttered a note of exclamation, for the
door yielded under her pressure and opened.

"It is unlocked," she said. "I am sure I fastened it."

Tarling put his lamp upon the lock and made a little grimace. The catch
had been wedged back into the lock so that it could not spring out again.

"How long were you in the house?" he asked quickly.

"Only a few minutes," said the girl. "I went in just to tell mother, and
I came out immediately."

"Did you close the door behind you when you went in?"

The girl thought a moment.

"Perhaps I didn't," she said. "No, of course not--I didn't come back this
way; mother let me out by the front door."

Tarling put his light into the hall and saw the carpeted stairs
half-a-dozen feet away. He guessed what had happened. Somebody had seen
the door ajar, and guessing from the fact that she had left it open that
she was returning immediately, had slipped a piece of wood, which looked
to be and was in fact the stalk of a match, between the catch of the
spring lock and its sheath.

"What has happened?" asked the girl in a troubled voice.

"Nothing," said Tarling airily. "It was probably your disreputable
step-father did this. He may have lost his key."

"He could have gone