do without—­his diary and his letter-book.  The brown-paper parcel contained likewise a number of other papers; it contained the Major’s notes for a book he was writing on the principal county families in Buckinghamshire.  The Major had been collecting information for this book for many years, and with it he hoped to make two or three hundred pounds—­money which he stood sorely in need of—­and to advance his position in the county, a position which, in his opinion, his father had done little to maintain, and which, to his very deep regret, his sisters were now doing their best to compromise.  That very morning, while packing up his brown-paper parcel, some quarter of an hour ago, he had had a somewhat angry interview on this subject with his sisters.  For he had thought it his duty to reprove them for keeping company with certain small London folk who had chosen to come to live in the neighbourhood.  Ethel had said that they were not going to give up their friends because they were not good enough for him, and Maud had added significantly that they were quite sure that their friends were quite as good as the friend he was going to see in Branbury.  The Major turned on his heel and left the house.

As he walked towards Branbury he asked himself if it were possible that they knew anything about Charlotte Street; and as he approached the town he looked round nervously, fearing lest some friend might pop down upon him, and, after some hesitation, decided to take a long detour so as to avoid passing by the house of some people he knew.  As he made his way through a bye-street his step quickened, and at the corner of Charlotte Street he looked round to make sure he was not followed.  He then drew his keys from his pocket and let himself into a small, mean-looking house.

Major Shepherd might have spared himself the trouble of these precautions; no one was minded to watch him, for everyone knew perfectly well who lived in 27, Charlotte Street.  It was common talk that the tall, dark woman who lived in 27 was Mrs Charles Shepherd, and that the little girl who ran by Mrs Shepherd’s side on the rare occasions when she was seen in the streets—­for it was said that the Major did not wish her to walk much about the town, lest she should attract the attention of the curious, who might be tempted to make inquiries—­was the Major’s little daughter, and it had been noticed that this little girl went forth now and then, basket on her arm, to do the marketing.  It was said that Mrs Shepherd had been a servant in some lodging-house where the Major had been staying; other scandal-mongers declared that they knew for certain that the Major had made his wife’s acquaintance in the street.  Rumour had never wandered far from the truth.  The Major had met his wife one night as he was coming home from his club.  They seemed to suit one another; he saw her frequently for several months, and then, fearing to lose her, in a sudden access of jealousy—­he had some