Other women might have asked what this mysterious proceeding
meant. Mrs. Presty's sense of her own dignity adopted a system of
independent discovery. To Mr. Sarrazin's amusement, she imitated
him to his face. Advancing to the window, she, too, hid herself
behind the curtain, and she, too, peeped out. Still following her
model, she next turned her back on the view--and then she became
herself again. "Now we have both looked out of window," she said
to the lawyer, in her own inimitably impudent way, "suppose we
compare our impressions."

This was easily done. They had both seen the same two men walking
backward and forward, opposite the front gate of the cottage.
Before the advancing fog made it impossible to identify him, Mr.
Sarrazin had recognized in one of the men his agreeable
fellow-traveler on the journey from London. The other man--a
stranger--was in all probability an assistant spy obtained in the
neighborhood. This discovery suggested serious embarrassment in
the future. Mrs. Presty asked what was to be done next. Mr.
Sarrazin answered: "Let us have our breakfast."

In another quarter of an hour they were both in Mrs. Linley's
room.

Her agitated manner, her reddened eyes, showed that she was still
suffering under the emotions of the past night. The moment the
lawyer approached her, she crossed the room with hurried steps,
and took both his hands in her trembling grasp. "You are a good
man, you are a kind man," she said to him wildly; "you have my
truest respect and regard. Tell me, are