She waited on him at breakfast, which, as he had forewarned her, he had unusually early. She was his landlady's daughter; her name was Mabel Joyce. Among his letters was one from Stella Austin. He opened it as she placed before him his bacon and eggs; as he glanced at Stella's opening lines Miss Joyce talked. "So you went to Brighton yesterday--by the Pullman, too." He looked up at her as if surprised. "Did I? Who told you that?" "Didn't you?" "You say I did. Pray, from what quarter did you get your information?" "Oh, there are plenty of quarters from which I can get information--when I like. And your uncle was in Brighton. It doesn't look as if he had a very pleasant day there, as he committed suicide in the train on the way back to town. I dare say you had a pleasanter day than he did." "I presume you got that information either from this morning's paper or else from listening last night outside the door." "As it happens, I haven't seen a paper, and, as for listening, if you don't know I wouldn't do a thing like that it's no use my saying so." "Then who was your informant?" "That's my business. There is a little bird which sometimes whispers in my ear. Did you come back in the Pullman?" He replied to her question with another. "What's the matter with you, Mabel?" "What should be? Nothing's the matter; I was only thinking that if you did, your uncle must have been in the train just behind you. If you'd have known what he was doing you'd have felt funny. Still, if you did come by the Pullman, considering that it's due at Victoria at ten, and yesterday was quite punctual, since you had promised to be in early, and knew that I was all alone in the house, I think you might have been back before midnight." He eyed the girl. She was pretty, in a pink-and-white sort of way; fonder of him than was good for her. He had never seen her in this shrewish mood before. "My dear Mabel, if I could have got back earlier I would have done so; but I couldn't. I was the sufferer, not you." "I dare say! I suppose that Miss Patterson was your cousin. Are you going to marry her?" "Really! you jump about! How do you suppose a fellow in my position can tell whom he's going to marry--on twopence a year?" "I dare say she's got money, especially now. Since directly she heard of her father's death she came tearing round to you, at that time of night, it looks as if you ought to marry her if you don't!" Miss Joyce flounced out of the room. For some moments he sat considering her words. Who told her that he went to Brighton, on the Pullman? Was it a lucky guess? Hardly; probably someone had seen him. People's eyes were everywhere. He would have to be careful what tale he told. It was odd how gingerly one had to walk when one was in a delicate position; there were so many unseen strings over which one might stumble.