RETURNING to his office, Mr. Troy discovered, among thecorrespondence that was waiting for him, a letter from the veryperson whose welfare was still the uppermost subject in his mind.Isabel Miller wrote in these terms:

"Dear Sir--My aunt, Miss Pink, is very desirous of consulting youprofessionally at the earliest opportunity. Although South Mordenis within little more than half an hour's railway ride fromLondon, Miss Pink does not presume to ask you to visit her, beingwell aware of the value of your time. Will you, therefore, be sokind as to let me know when it will be convenient to you toreceive my aunt at your office in London? Believe me, dear sir,respectfully yours, ISABEL MILLER. P.S.--I am further instructedto say that the regrettable event at Lady Lydiard's house is theproposed subject of the consultation. The Lawn, South Morden.Thursday."

Mr. Troy smiled as he read the letter. "Too formal for a younggirl!" he said to himself. "Every word of it has been dictated byMiss Pink." He was not long in deciding what course he shouldtake. There was a pressing necessity for cautioning Isabel, andhere was his opportunity. He sent for his head clerk, and lookedat his list of engagements for the day. There was nothing setdown in the book which the clerk was not quite as well able to doas the master. Mr. Troy consulted his railway-guide, ordered hiscab, and caught the next train to South Mord en.

South Morden was then (and remains to this day) one of thoseprimitive agricultural villages, passed over by the march ofmodern progress, which are still to be found in the nearneighborhood of London. Only the slow trains stopped at thestation and there was so little to do that the station-master andhis porter grew flowers on the embankment, and trained creepersover the waiting-room window. Turning your back on the railway,and walking along the one street of South Morden, you foundyourself in the old England of two centuries since. Gabledcottages, with fast-closed windows; pigs and poultry in quietpossession of the road; the venerable church surrounded by itsshady burial-ground; the grocer's shop which sold everything, andthe butcher's shop which sold nothing; the scarce inhabitants wholiked a good look at a stranger, and the unwashed children whowere pictures of dirty health; the clash of the iron-chainedbucket in the public well, and the thump of the falling nine-pinsin the skittle-ground behind the public-house; the horse-pond onthe one bit of open ground, and the old elm-tree with the woodenseat round it on the other--these were some of the objects thatyou saw, and some of the noises that you heard in South Morden,as you passed from one end of the village to the other.

About half a mile beyond the last of the old cottages, modernEngland met you again under the form of a row of little villas,set up by an adventurous London builder who had bought the land abargain. Each villa stood in its own little garden, and lookedacross a stony road at the meadow lands and softly-rising woodedhills beyond. Each villa faced you in the sunshine with thehorrid glare of new red brick, and forced its nonsensical name onyour attention, traced in bright paint on the posts of itsentrance gate. Consulting the posts as he advanced, Mr. Troyarrived in due course of time at the villa called The Lawn, whichderived its name apparently from a circular patch of grass infront of the house. The gate resisting his efforts to open it, herang the bell.

Admitted by a trim, clean, shy little maid-servant, Mr. Troylooked about him in amazement. Turn which way he might, he foundhimself silently confronted by posted and painted instructions tovisitors, which forbade him to do this, and commanded him to dothat, at every step of his progress from the gate to the house.On the side of the lawn a label informed him that he was not towalk on the grass. On the other side a painted hand pointed alonga boundary-wall to an inscription which warned him to go that wayif he had business in the kitchen. On the gravel walk at the footof the housesteps words, neatly traced in little white shells,reminded him not to "forget the scraper". On the doorstep he wasinformed, in letters of lead, that he was "Welcome!" On the matin the passage bristly black words burst on his attention,commanding him to "wipe his shoes." Even the hat-stand in thehall was not allowed to speak for itself; it had "Hats andCloaks" inscribed on it, and it issued its directionsimperatively in the matter of your wet umbrella--"Put it here!"

Giving the trim little servant his card, Mr. Troy was introducedto a reception-room on the lower floor. Before he had time tolook round him the door was opened again from without, and Isabelstole into the room on tiptoe. She looked worn and anxious. Whenshe shook hands with the old lawyer the charming smile that heremembered so well was gone.

"Don't say you have seen me," she whispered. "I am not to comeinto the room till my aunt sends for me. Tell me two thingsbefore I run away again. How is Lady Lydiard? And have youdiscovered the thief?"

"Lady Lydiard was well when I last saw her; and we have not yetsucceeded in discovering the thief." Having answered thequestions in those terms, Mr. Troy decided on cautioning Isabelon the subject of the steward while he had the chance. "Onequestion on my side," he said, holding her back from the door bythe arm. "Do you expect Moody to visit you here?"

"I am _sure_ he will visit me," Isabel answered warmly. "He haspromised to come here at my request. I never knew what a kindheart Robert Moody had till this misfortune fell on me. My aunt,who is not easily taken with strangers, respects and admires him.I can't tell you how good he was to me on the journey here--andhow kindly, how nobly, he spoke to me when we parted." Shepaused, and turned her head away. The tears were rising in hereyes. "In my situation," she said faintly, "kindness is verykeenly felt. Don't notice me, Mr. Troy."

The lawyer waited a moment to let her recover herself.

"I agree entirely, my dear, in your opinion of Moody," he said."At the same time, I think it right to warn you that his zeal inyour service may possibly outrun his discretion. He may feel tooconfidently about penetrating the mystery of the missing money;and, unless you are on your guard, he may raise false hopes inyou when you next see him. Listen to any advice that he may giveyou, by all means. But, before you decide on being guided by hisopinion, consult my older experience, and hear what I have to sayon the subject. Don't suppose that I am attempting to make youdistrust this good friend," he added, noticing the look of uneasysurprise which Isabel fixed on him. "No such idea is in my mind.I only warn you that Moody's eagerness to be of service to youmay mislead him. You understand me."

"Yes, sir," replied Isabel coldly; "I understand you. Please letme go now. My aunt will be down directly; and she must not findme here." She curtseyed with distant respect, and left the room.

"So much for trying to put two ideas together into a girl'smind!" thought Mr. Troy, when he was alone again. "The littlefool evidently thinks I am jealous of Moody's place in herestimation. Well! I have done my duty--and I can do no more."

He looked round the room. Not a chair was out of its place, not aspeck of dust was to be seen. The brightly-perfect polish of thetable made your eyes ache; the ornaments on it looked as if theyhad never been touched by mortal hand; the piano was an objectfor distant admiration, not an instrument to be played on; thecarpet made Mr. Troy look nervously at the soles of his shoes;and the sofa (protected by layers of white crochet-work) said asplainly as if in words, "Sit on me if you dare!" Mr. Troyretreated to a bookcase at the further end of the room. The booksfitted the shelves to such absolute perfection that he had somedifficulty in taking one of them out. When he had succeeded, hefound himself in possession of a volume of the History ofEngland. On the fly-leaf he encountered another writtenwarning:--"This book belongs to Miss Pink's Academy for YoungLadies, and is not to be removed from the library." The date,which was added, referred to a period of ten years since. MissPink now stood revealed as a retired schoolmistress, and Mr. Troybegan to understand some of the characteristic peculiarities ofthat lady's establishment which had puzzled him up to the presenttime.

He had just succeeded in putting the book back again when thedoor opened once more, and Isabel's aunt entered the room.

If Miss Pink could, by any possible conjuncture of circumstances,have disappeared mysteriously from her house and her friends, thepolice would have found the greatest difficulty in composing thenecessary description of the missing lady. The acutest observercould have discovered nothing that was noticeable orcharacteristic in her personal appearance. The pen of the presentwriter portrays her in despair by a series of negatives. She wasnot young, she was not old; she was neither tall nor short, norstout nor thin; nobody could call her features attractive, andnobody could call them ugly; there was nothing in her voice, herexpression, her manner, or her dress that differed in anyappreciable degree from the voice, expression, manner, and dressof five hundred thousand other single ladies of her age andposition in the world. If you had asked her to describe herself,she would have answered, "I am a gentlew oman"; and if you hadfurther inquired which of her numerous accomplishments tookhighest rank in her own esteem, she would have replied, "Mypowers of conversation." For the rest, she was Miss Pink, ofSouth Morden; and, when that has been said, all has been said.

"Pray be seated, sir. We have had a beautiful day, after thelong-continued wet weather. I am told that the season is veryunfavorable for wall-fruit. May I offer you some refreshmentafter your journey?" In these terms and in the smoothest ofvoices, Miss Pink opened the interview.

Mr. Troy made a polite reply, and added a few strictlyconventional remarks on the beauty of the neighborhood. Not evena lawyer could sit in Miss Pink's presence, and hear Miss Pink'sconversation, without feeling himself called upon (in the nurseryphrase) to "be on his best behavior".

"It is extremely kind of you, Mr. Troy, to favor me with thisvisit," Miss Pink resumed. "I am well aware that the time ofprofessional gentlemen is of especial value to them; and I willtherefore ask you to excuse me if I proceed abruptly to thesubject on which I desire to consult your experience."

Here the lady modestly smoothed out her dress over her knees, andthe lawyer made a bow. Miss Pink's highly-trained conversationhad perhaps one fault--it was not, strictly speaking,conversation at all. In its effect on her hearers it ratherresembled the contents of a fluently conventional letter, readaloud.

"The circumstances under which my niece Isabel has left LadyLydiard's house," Miss Pink proceeded, "are so indescribablypainful--I will go further, I will say so deeplyhumiliating--that I have forbidden her to refer to them again inmy presence, or to mention them in the future to any livingcreature besides myself. You are acquainted with thosecircumstances, Mr. Troy; and you will understand my indignationwhen I first learnt that my sister's child had been suspected oftheft. I have not the honor of being acquainted with LadyLydiard. She is not a Countess, I believe? Just so! Her husbandwas only a Baron. I am not acquainted with Lady Lydiard; and Iwill not trust myself to say what I think of her conduct to myniece."

"Pardon me, madam," Mr. Troy interposed. "Before you say any moreabout Lady Lydiard, I really must beg leave to observe--"

"Pardon _me_," Miss Pink rejoined. "I never form a hastyjudgment. Lady Lydiard's conduct is beyond the reach of anydefense, no matter how ingenious it may be. You may not be aware,sir, that in receiving my niece under her roof her Ladyship wasreceiving a gentlewoman by birth as well as by education. My latelamented sister was the daughter of a clergyman of the Church ofEngland. I need hardly remind you that, as such, she was a bornlady. Under favoring circumstances, Isabel's maternal grandfathermight have been Archbishop of Canterbury, and have takenprecedence of the whole House of Peers, the Princes of the bloodRoyal alone excepted. I am not prepared to say that my niece isequally well connected on her father's side. My sistersurprised--I will not add shocked--us when she married a chemist.At the same time, a chemist is not a tradesman. He is a gentlemanat one end of the profession of Medicine, and a titled physicianis a gentleman at the other end. That is all. In inviting Isabelto reside with her, Lady Lydiard, I repeat, was bound to rememberthat she was associating herself with a young gentlewoman. Shehas _not_ remembered this, which is one insult; and she hassuspected my niece of theft, which is another."

Miss Pink paused to take breath. Mr. Troy made a second attemptto get a hearing.

"Will you kindly permit me, madam, to say a few words?"

"No!" said Miss Pink, asserting the most immovable obstinacyunder the blandest politeness of manner. "Your time, Mr. Troy, isreally too valuable! Not even your trained intellect can excuseconduct which is manifestly _in_excusable on the face of it. Nowyou know my opinion of Lady Lydiard, you will not be surprised tohear that I decline to trust her Ladyship. She may, or she maynot, cause the necessary inquiries to be made for the vindicationof my niece's character. In a matter so serious as this--I maysay, in a duty which I owe to the memories of my sister and myparents--I will not leave the responsibility to Lady Lydiard. Iwill take it on myself. Let me add that I am able to pay thenecessary expenses. The earlier years of my life, Mr. Troy, havebeen passed in the tuition of young ladies. I have been happy inmeriting the confidence of parents; and I have been strict inobserving the golden rules of economy. On my retirement, I havebeen able to invest a modest, a very modest, little fortune inthe Funds. A portion of it is at the service of my niece for therecovery of her good name; and I desire to place the necessaryinvestigation confidentially in your hands. You are acquaintedwith the case, and the case naturally goes to you. I could notprevail on myself--I really could not prevail on myself--tomention it to a stranger. That is the business on which I wishedto consult you. Please say nothing more about Lady Lydiard--thesubject is inexpressibly disagreeable to me. I will only trespasson your kindness to tell me if I have succeeded in making myselfunderstood."

Miss Pink leaned back in her chair, at the exact angle permittedby the laws of propriety; rested her left elbow on the palm ofher right hand, and lightly supported her cheek with herforefinger and thumb. In this position she waited Mr. Troy'sanswer--the living picture of human obstinacy in its mostrespectable form.

If Mr. Troy had not been a lawyer--in other words, if he had notbeen professionally capable of persisting in his own course, inthe face of every conceivable difficulty and discouragement--MissPink might have remained in undisturbed possession of her ownopinions. As it was, Mr. Troy had got his hearing at last; and nomatter how obstinately she might close her eyes to it, Miss Pinkwas now destined to have the other side of the case presented toher view.

"I am sincerely obliged to you, madam, for the expression of yourconfidence in me," Mr. Troy began; "at the same time, I must begyou to excuse me if I decline to accept your proposal."

Miss Pink had not expected to receive such an answer as this. Thelawyer's brief refusal surprised and annoyed her.

"Why do you decline to assist me?" she asked.

"Because," answered Mr. Troy, "my services are already engaged,in Miss Isabel's interest, by a client whom I have served formore than twenty years. My client is--"

Miss Pink anticipated the coming disclosure. "You need nottrouble yourself, sir, to mention your client's name," she said.

"My client," persisted Mr. Troy, "loves Miss Isabel dearly."

"That is a matter of opinion," Miss Pink interposed.

"And believes in Miss Isabel's innocence," proceeded theirrepressible lawyer, "as firmly as you believe in it yourself."

Miss Pink (being human) had a temper; and Mr. Troy had found hisway to it.

"If Lady Lydiard believes in my niece's innocence," said MissPink, suddenly sitting bolt upright in her chair, "why has myniece been compelled, in justice to herself, to leave LadyLydiard's house?"

"You will admit, madam," Mr. Troy answered cautiously, "that weare all of us liable, in this wicked world, to be the victims ofappearances. Your niece is a victim--an innocent victim. Shewisely withdraws from Lady Lydiard's house until appearances areproved to be false and her position is cleared up."

Miss Pink had her reply ready. "That is simply acknowledging, inother words, that my niece is suspected. I am only a woman, Mr.Troy--but it is not quite so easy to mislead me as you seem tosuppose."

Mr. Troy's temper was admirably trained. But it began toacknowledge that Miss Pink's powers of irritation could sting tosome purpose.

"No intention of misleading you, madam, has ever crossed mymind," he rejoined warmly. "As for your niece, I can tell youthis. In all my experience of Lady Lydiard, I never saw her sodistressed as she was when Miss Isabel left the house!"

"Indeed!" said Miss Pink, with an incredulous smile. "In my rankof life, when we feel distressed about a person, we do our bestto comfort that person by a kind letter or an early visit. Butthen I am not a lady of title."

"Lady Lydiard engaged herself to call on Miss Isabel in myhearing," said Mr. Troy. "Lady Lydiard is the most generous womanliving!"

"Lady Lydiard is here!" cried a joyful voice on the other side ofthe door.

At the same moment, Isabel burst into the room in a state ofexcitement which actually ignored the formidable presence of MissPink. "I beg your pardon, aunt! I was upstairs at the window, andI saw the carriage stop at the gate. And Tommie has come, too!The darling saw me at the window!" cried the poor girl, her eyessparkling with delight as a perfect explosion of barking madeitself heard over the tramp of horses' feet and the crash ofcarriage wheels outside.

Miss Pink rose slowly, with a dignity that looked capable ofadequately receiving--not one noble lady only, but the wholepeerage of England.

"Control yourself, dear Isabel," she said. "No well-bred younglady permits herself to become unduly excited. Stand by myside--a little behind me."

Isabel obeyed. Mr. Troy kept his place, and privately enjoyed histriumph over Miss Pink. If Lady Lydiard had been actually inleague with him, she could not have chosen a more opportune timefor her visit. A momentary interval passed. The carriage drew upat the door; the horses trampled on the gravel; the bell rungmadly; the uproar of Tommie, released from the carriage andclamoring to be let in, redoubled its fury. Never before had suchan unruly burst of noises invaded the tranquility of Miss Pink'svilla!