“Now then, Miss Tuppence,” said Sir James, “you know this place better than I do.  Where do you suggest we should take up our quarters?”

Tuppence considered for a moment or two.

“I think Mrs. Vandemeyer’s boudoir would be the most comfortable,” she said at last, and led the way there.

Sir James looked round approvingly.

“This will do very well, and now, my dear young lady, do go to bed and get some sleep.”

Tuppence shook her head resolutely.

“I couldn’t, thank you, Sir James.  I should dream of Mr. Brown all night!”

“But you’ll be so tired, child.”

“No, I shan’t.  I’d rather stay up—­really.”

The lawyer gave in.

Julius reappeared some minutes later, having reassured Albert and rewarded him lavishly for his services.  Having in his turn failed to persuade Tuppence to go to bed, he said decisively: 

“At any rate, you’ve got to have something to eat right away.  Where’s the larder?”

Tuppence directed him, and he returned in a few minutes with a cold pie and three plates.

After a hearty meal, the girl felt inclined to pooh-pooh her fancies of half an hour before.  The power of the money bribe could not fail.

“And now, Miss Tuppence,” said Sir James, “we want to hear your adventures.”

“That’s so,” agreed Julius.

Tuppence narrated her adventures with some complacence.  Julius occasionally interjected an admiring “Bully.”  Sir James said nothing until she had finished, when his quiet “well done, Miss Tuppence,” made her flush with pleasure.

“There’s one thing I don’t get clearly,” said Julius.  “What put her up to clearing out?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Tuppence.

Sir James stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“The room was in great disorder.  That looks as though her flight was unpremeditated.  Almost as though she got a sudden warning to go from some one.”

“Mr. Brown, I suppose,” said Julius scoffingly.

The lawyer looked at him deliberately for a minute or two.

“Why not?” he said.  “Remember, you yourself have once been worsted by him.”

Julius flushed with vexation.

“I feel just mad when I think of how I handed out Jane’s photograph to him like a lamb.  Gee, if I ever lay hands on it again, I’ll freeze on to it like—­like hell!”

“That contingency is likely to be a remote one,” said the other dryly.

“I guess you’re right,” said Julius frankly.  “And, in any case, it’s the original I’m out after.  Where do you think she can be, Sir James?”

The lawyer shook his head.

“Impossible to say.  But I’ve a very good idea where she has been.”

“You have?  Where?”

Sir James smiled.

“At the scene of your nocturnal adventures, the Bournemouth nursing home.”

“There?  Impossible.  I asked.”