Danvers at the Lost Property Office. He thought it advisable to leave them there for the present, with a man on the watch to see whether they were claimed or not. And then he fell to examining porters and officials on his own account, and he saw the guard of the train in which Mrs. Danvers and Clarice had travelled on the afternoon in question, but he gained no information at all. His mind reverted to the thought of Scotland Yard and a detective's office. He was disposed to place the matter in the hands of the police.

He was still standing in the station, having excited some curiosity, some wrath, and some sympathy by his questions, when a boy came up and touched him on the arm.

"I see two ladies, a oldish one and a young 'un, o' Tuesday afternoon, between four and five," he said. "They come asking me the way to the Metropolitan, and wouldn't let me their bag. I remember 'em." Jacobi turned eagerly.

carry

"What were they like? Had the lady light hair that curled on her forehead?" "If she had," said the boy, dubiously, "I didn't see it."

"She wore spectacles?" "No, she didn't."

Of that the lad was sure.

"You did not notice what the young lady wore? Had she a fur jacket, for instance? 11

The lad shook his head. "The girl looked like a servant, if it was the one I mean," he said. "She had on a grey shawl, and a veil tied over her face."

"And a red dress." "No, a brown or a black one. Something dull and sober like." Jacobi shrugged his shoulders.

They cannot be the ladies of whom I am in search," he said.

"Wait a bit," said the boy, cunningly. "Now, do you happen to know the name of that 'ere young lady? "Why?"

"You tell me it, and I'll tell you why. What's her initials?" moment, then

Jacobi paused a

answered slowly, "Her

name

was

Miss Clarice Vanborough. Her initials

are C. D. V."

He remembered name was Dorinda.

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that her second

The boy winked knowingly. knew it," he said.

"I

"And this 'ere

handkercher was what she dropped, agoing into the other railway station. See here!"

He drew from his pocket a white handkerchief with an embroidered crest and initials in one corner. The crest was the Vanborough crest; the initials were C. D. V.

"What'll you give me for it?" said the boy.

They went to the Underground, did they? What tickets did they take? Did you hear?"

"What'll you give me, if I tell you?” Jacobi held up half-a-crown.

"Make it five shillings," said the lad, "and I'll tell you, and give you the hanky into the bargain."

Jacobi gave him the five shillings and received the handkerchief in return.

Bishopsgate Street," said the boy, as he pocketed the money. "I was behind 'em with another person's luggage. I'd swear to it if necessary Bishopsgate it was; third-class. Do anything more for you, sir ?"

66

Your name and address," said Jacobi, and, having written them down in his pocket book, he made his way to the Metropolitan Station. Here, of course, he met with no success. Clerks and officials were much too busy to have noticed the appearance of any couple of ordinary passengers, and could certainly remember nothing of what had happened two days ago. Jacobi retired baffled, both at King's Cross and Bishopsgate Street, and returned to Chelsea to consult in a more friendly spirit with Gilbert.

The girl who dropped the handkerchief was evidently Clarice Vanborough; but Jacobi was puzzled by the declaration of the lad that she wore a brown dress and grey shawl. It seemed impossible that she could have stopped anywhere on the way to change her clothes, and yet she had quitted Charnwood in very different raiment; in rich colours and costly furs, which might of themselves have excited remark. And the boy's failure to notice Mrs. Danvers' golden hair suggested a new possibility

152

to Jacobi's mind. Could Clarice have been separated from her companion and handed over to Nigel Tremaine's accomplices? But, then, Mrs. Danvers would surely have claimed her boxes, and presented herself at Charnwood to clear herself from the imputation of carelessness or treachery. She had seemed so faithful, so devoted to Jacobi's interests that her defection was the greatest blow to his case that it could well have received. And yet she was missing, and Clarice was missing too.

Jacobi and Gilbert took counsel with one another, and decided upon placing the matter in the hands of a detective. The officer whom they employed was a civil, melancholy-looking man named Gale; clever enough, perhaps, but by no means gifted with supernatural sagacity.

The "mysterious disappearance of a young lady" soon got into the papers and began to be talked about; but the utmost publicity in this case seemed to produce no result at all.

The following advertisement was speedily seen in all the leading newspapers of the day :

"Two Hundred Pounds Reward.Missing, a young lady, aged twenty; five feet four inches in height, pale complexion, dark eyes and hair, delicate in appearance and health. Left X- — Junction for King's Cross on Tuesday, the 20th inst.; was traced to Bishopsgate Street Station; has not since been heard of. Wore on leaving home a red cashmere dress, trimmed with velvet, sealskin and beaver jacket, black bonnet with red roses, fur-lined gloves, buttoned boots, linen marked C.D.V.; supposed to be in company with a lady about forty, dressed in black, with light hair curling on the forehead, pale complexion, wearing spectacles. The above reward will be paid to any person or persons who may give such information as will lead to the discovery of the young lady now missing."

The address of an eminent firm of solicitors was added below.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE ESCAPE.

the station not a comfortable one; Mrs. Danvers had thought it advisable, therefore, to wrap a large, dark, waterproof cloak round her companion's figure, and tie a gauze veil over her face before they left the railway carriage. Clarice did not object; she was very gentle and subdued; but the heaviness of her wraps made it uncomfortable for her to walk, and she was glad to take refuge in the waiting room, while Mrs. Danvers interviewed the porters and the guard in turn, and secured a first-class carriage for Clarice and herself by well-timed gratuities to these officials.

The train went through to King's Cross without stopping. The journey would occupy rather more than fifty minutes. Mrs. Danvers established her charge in a corner of the railway carriage, and smiled as the train moved off.

They passed out of the station; away from the town, across a stretch of Mrs. flat and undulating country. Danvers rose up and pulled the blue curtains across the windows, then took down the black bag from the netting above her head and opened it.

"Clarice, my darling," she said, “I want to make a little alteration in your bonnet. Let me take it off."

Clarice allowed her to remove her headgear, then leaned back and closed her eyes. Had she opened them she would have seen Mrs. Danvers take a pair of scissors from her bag and begin. to cut the threads with which the scarlet flower and the Spanish lace were sewn-lightly sewn indeed, judging from the ease with which they were unfastened. Then Mrs. Danvers took out a black ribbon and fastened it to the top and sides of the bonnet, leaving enough for strings. Thus disembar rassed of the lace and flowers which had been piled upon it, the bonnet was a simple one enough-one with a slight poke, such as as was then customary-a bonnet which might have been worn by a respectable girl of the lower middle class. When this transformation was effected, Mrs. Danvers heaped the lace and flowers into her bag.

Then she spoke to Clarice again. "I am going to alter your dress a little, dear. Let me take off your

At X- - Junction ten minutes had to be passed. The wind was cold, and | jacket."

Clarice's eyes began to bewildered expression, but were perfectly passive.

assume a her limbs Without

a

word she allowed herself to be divested
of her sealskin. Then Mrs. Danvers
slipped over her head the plain brown
skirt that she had recently been mak-
ing, and tied it round her waist. It
had been made long enough to conceal
every vestige of the red cashmere dress.
Mrs. Danvers proceeded to endue her
with a close woollen jacket, and, over
it, the thick grey shawl that she had
lately bought "for the old woman in
the village." Then she tied the simple
black bonnet under her chin, replaced
her furred gloves by black woollen
ones, and looked at her critically.
Nothing remained of Clarice Van-
borough, in appearance, but the white
face and melancholy dark eyes, which
were too striking when once noticed
to be easily forgotten. Mrs. Danvers
fastened the black gauze veil upon
the bonnet, but did not, as yet, draw it
down over the girl's face; then she
smiled a little to herself.

"Who could tell her for Miss Van-
borough, now?" she said. "She looks
like a village girl coming up to London
for the first time in her life. She is
not half fine enough for a lady's-maid."

The grey shawl was a comfortable wrap, and Clarice hardly seemed conscious of the change in her dress. The common woollen gloves seemed to trouble her, however. them with evident dissatisfaction, and She looked at was not content until Mrs. Danvers had taken them off again. Into the capacious black bag went the sealskin jacket, the furred gloves, the Indian shawl. And then Mrs. Danvers proceeded to make an alteration in her own toilette-an alteration of a somewhat startling character.

She took off her bonnet and laid it on the seat beside her. Then she took off her spectacles and put them away. Next she manipulated her hair a little. The golden plaits came off very easily; then the waving fringe which had descended almost to her eyebrows. Thus denuded, it might have been seen that Mrs. Danvers had beneath her plaits and her frizzles a beautiful head of hair of her own, straight and smooth as satin, and black as a raven's wing.

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She showed the false hair to Clarice with a smile, but said nothing as she placed it in her bag. Then, she took out a handkerchief and a little bottle, and rubbed her face, sometimes energetically, sometimes delicately, for a minute or two. The handkerchief brought away a good deal of colour, and left her face much whiter than it had been before.

Two more changes had to be made. Mrs. Danvers changed her boots. Those that she placed in her bag were curiously unlike. The left foot had a much thicker sole and higher heel than the right one. If Betsy Blane had seen them she might (if she had been clever enough) have found a reason for the fact which had often perplexed her, the fact that Mrs. Danvers never sent her boots downstairs to be blacked. She had a fluid preparation which she used herself, Mrs. Danvers used to say, and that she liked much better than ordinary blacking.

Then she exchanged her cloak for the dark waterproof, which she had previously given Clarice to wear. And, thus equipped, it could be easily seen that Mrs. Danvers was neither lame nor deformed, that she was a dark woman, with a pale and stedfast face, and that her dark eyes had no need of spectacles at all. Mrs. Danvers was transformed.

Clarice looked up and gave a start of terror. Mrs. Danvers came and sat beside her.

"Don't be afraid," she said in her ear. "I am the same as ever. You love me a little, don't you?"

Clarice held out her hands to her. Her lips moved, but Mrs. Danvers could not catch her reply. She kissed the girl's pale cheek, and noticed with satisfaction that the look of terror was disappearing from her eyes; then returned to the task of concealing the garments that she had doffed in her bag.

Finally, she wrapped a black shawl
round her shoulders and drew down
her veil; then, took her place once
more at Clarice's side, held the girl's
hand in a firm but kindly clasp, and
slackening of the train's pace.
waited, erect and motionless, for the

Finsbury Park was past; York Road,
King's Cross came next.

Porters were

154

seen running along the platform-one or two looked in at the carriage-window, from which Mrs. Danvers had pulled back the curtain. Her own veil was down, Clarice's also, and they were both sitting at the corner furthest from the door.

Mrs. Danvers rose concealing Clarice from view, and took the bag from the

seat.

"No luggage," she said to the porter in firm tones. "No we don't want a cab. I can carry my bag myself."

The porter retired. The train stopped; the guard came up and unlocked the door.

"Your luggage is in the furthest van, ma'am," he said to Mrs. Danvers, confidentially. He did not notice any change in her appearance, and he could not see the young lady who was with her. The day had been cloudy, and was already drawing to a close. The lamps had not yet been lighted, and the carriage was nearly dark.

Mrs. Danvers gave him a shilling and thanked him. He walked onwards down the platform, and as soon as he was gone Mrs. Danvers turned round and took Clarice by the hand.

"Now, my dear," she said, "come." The two figures, veiled and muffled, passed through a jostling crowd of passengers and porters without remark. Mrs. Danvers did not pause until she was out of the station; then, she waited for a moment and looked round.

Carry your bag for you, mum ?” A boy stood near her with a truck, on which various bags and boxes had already been deposited. He was going to wheel them down the road to the Metropolitan Station.

"No thank you. Is this the way to the Underground Railway?"

"Right you are, mum. I'm going there. Walk alongside of me and you'll see where I go. Carry your bag for you, if you like."

Mrs. Danvers refused the offer. The bag was not heavy, and she did not like to trust it out of her own hand. This refusal made the lad look at her twice, instead of conveying her luggage for her and merely thinking of the pay. He wondered "why folks would carry their own bags themselves, instead of grudging a poor cove a copper or two."

At the Metropolitan Station, Mrs. Danvers took a ticket for Bishopsgate Street. Arriving there in a quarter of an hour, she made her way, with Clarice's arm in hers, to Liverpool Street Station. Here they had a little time to wait, and she compelled the girl to drink some hot tea and eat a biscuit. Then she took another ticket, and led her silent companion once more to the train.

As Clarice seated herself in the thirdclass carriage, whither Mrs. Danvers had piloted her, she seemed to be seized by some new and perplexing emotion. She put up her veil and looked at Mrs. Danvers with quivering lips and startled eyes.

"Where are we going?" she asked, faintly.

"To Nigel," was Mrs. Danvers' prompt reply. And then she drew down the girl's veil, and told her to sit still and they would soon be at home.

They got out at Old Ford, a district situated beyond Bethnal Green, at the extreme east end. Once more Mrs. Danvers took Clarice by the arm and walked out with her from the station into the open road. She walked for ward a little way, looking neither to the right nor left. Then, she stopped. Some landmark seemed to have caught her eye. She waited, put her bag down on the pavement beside her, and sighed.

The night had closed in, and a light rain was falling. The streets had a quiet look; there were few shops, and traffic seemed to be suspended. Not a cab was to be seen. Clarice shivered beneath her grey shawl, but did not say a word.

They had not long to wait. A man's figure, enveloped in a long great-coat, advanced with a quick, firm tread towards them. He hesitated, passed by the two women once, had then turned round; Clarice stretched out her hands to him with a sudden cry of "Nigel!" He had hardly recognised her in her disguise, but she had known him by his bearing and his tread.

"My love!" He put his arms round her and kissed her passionately. "My love! my own! my darling!" It was all that he could say. He had saved

her-he thought that he had saved her-at last; it was not yet too late; and never should she set foot in her father's house again until Nigel Tremaine himself could lead her thither as a free and happy wife! It was this thought that prompted that sudden outburst of loving words, that tender clasp, that rain of kisses on cheek, and lip, and brow. The darkness favoured him ; for a moment he felt as if they two stood alone together in the universe, and could let the world go by, unknowing and unknown.

"Have we far to go?" said Mrs. Danvers, quietly.

Nigel came to himself with a start, and offered her his hand.

"I thank you," he said, simply yet earnestly; "and some day Clarice will thank too." Then with a resumpyou tion of his usual manner-"We have a quarter of an hour's walk before us. Let me take your bag. May I give you my arm? As we go, I will tell you the rest of our programme." Mrs. Danvers declined his arm, which he gave to Clarice, who walked between the two. An unusual buoyancy seemed to pervade his whole being. His step was light, his voice. cheerful, his keen blue eyes bright and proud. It was evident that he was sanguine about the future.

"Your journey was a successful one, then?" he said, almost gaily.

I do not think
What have you to

"I think so-yes. they can trace us. tell me, Mr. Tremaine ?"

a less uncommon

"First of all, you know, you must call me by my proper name," said Nigel, cheerfully. "I wish it was Clarice's sake, I must not change it. name, but, for I am Nigel Wilson, your nephew; and this is my sister Caroline, whom we call Carry. We used to call you Carry once, did we not, my darling? will not mind being called Carry You again?"

"No," said the girl, looking up at him with wistful affection. "Not by you."

continued. "Wilson seemed to me, as I said in my letter, a convenient, ordinary kind of name that tells nothing. Your husband was a clergyman, now

And you are Mrs. Wilson," Nigel

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dead. Your husband's brother, our father, was a lawyer. (That is true, in a sense; my father did practise at the bar for some years; but, of course, I have had to lay truth on one side). I am a commercial traveller-that explains my long absences from homeand my sister is in very delicate health. You have a small independence, but would be glad to give a few music lessons to eke out your slender means. I have not absolutely said all this, but I have said part and hinted the rest. Does she understand what she is to do?"

"No; I have said nothing."

"I must prepare her then. Clarice, my darling?"

"Yes, Nigel."

I want you

She is not

"You know this lady? to give her a new name. Mrs. Danvers any longer; she is Mrs. Wilson. Do you understand? You are never to call her Mrs. Danvers any more. Her name to you—is——”

He hesitated a little. Mrs. Danvers finished the sentence.

"Aunt Mary," she said, quietly.

"Aunt Mary," said Nigel, with a certain momentary embarrassment, which he passed off with a faint laugh; "Aunt Mary; your aunt and mine. Let me hear you call her by her name."

Clarice looked at him and then at Mrs. Danvers. She did not understand, but she was obedient. She said the name submissively.

"Aunt Mary. Not Mrs. Danvers any longer. I will try to remember."

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And, my darling, don't say the name Mrs. Danvers' at all, if you can help it. If you do, do you know what will happen? I may have to go away from you and not see you for a long time. Remember that you are not to talk of Mrs. Danvers any more."

"I will try to remember," she said again, looking distressed.

"That will do," said Mrs. Danvers to Nigel, in a low tone. "That is enough for one night."

slowly, "I have followed my mother's And," said Nigel, rather more counsel in one particular and brought my old nurse, Martha Judson, to town with me. She is more than sixty years of age, and has been in