e containing duplicates each evening, and it is sent to
headquarters. If it will please you, I'll lock the copy now in my desk."

"That is exceedingly good of you," said Siddle gratefully. "You, as a
Londoner, will understand that such a telegram from--er--Horton is not
the sort of thing one would like to become known even in the most
limited circle."

"You can depend on me, sir."

Siddle hastened back to his shop. The telegraphist looked after him.

"Queer!" he mused. "Miss Doris guessed him at once. Phi-ew, I must be
careful! This village contains surprises."

Doris, watching from an upper room, saw the visitor, and timed him. She
imagined he had dispatched an answer. Being a woman, she sought
enlightenment a few minutes later.

"Mr. Siddle came in," she said tentatively.

"Yes," said the specialist, smiling. "And I agree with you, Miss Martin.
We mustn't talk about telegrams, even among ourselves, unless it is
necessary departmentally."

Doris was silenced, but she read the riddle correctly. The chemist was
particularly anxious that no Steynholme resident should be made aware of
his mother's death. She wondered why.

She was enlightened when Furneaux paid a call about tea-time. She took
him into the garden. The lawn at The Hollies was empty.

"Well, you entertained an acquaintance yesterday?" he began.

"Yes. Am I to tell you what happened?"

"Not a great deal, I imagine," he said, with a puzzling laugh.

"No, but I annoyed him, as Mr.----"

"No names!" broke in the detective hastily. "Names, especially modern
ones, destroy romance. Even the Georgian method of using initials, or
leaving out vowels, lend an air of intrigue to the veriest balderdash."

"But no one can overhear us," was the somewhat surprised comment.

"How true!" said Furneaux. "Pardon me, Miss Martin. Tell the story in
your own way."

Doris had a good memory. She was invariably letter-perfect in a play
after a couple of rehearsals, and could prompt others if they faltered.
The detective listened in silence while she repeated the conversation
between Siddle and herself. He took no notes. In fact, he hardly ever did
make any record in a case unless it was essential to prove the exact
words of a suspected person.

"Good!" he said, when she had finished. "That sounds like the
complete text."

"I don't think I have left out anything of importance--that is, if a
single word of it _is_ important."

"Oh, heaps," he assured her. "It's