“It was extremely interesting,” agreed Sellars in his calm, placid way. “I don’t know when I ever listened to a more delightful recital of village annals. I heard all about the rather lurid doings of that remarkable family, the Brookeses, the father and the three brothers of whom Sir George is now the sole survivor. And equally absorbing, the history of Miss Larchester and her derelict father, and last the story of your arrival at Brinkstone and your subsequent friendship with the young lady in question. Old Dobbs had a great tenderness for her, he used to grow quite lyrical in his descriptions.” “You went down there, of course, to spy out all this,” remarked Miss Buckley in contemptuous tones. “I take it you are really a detective, although I must say you haven’t got the cut of one. Well, Mr. Sellars, what is it you want with me? Please come to the point.” “I am not exactly a detective, not professionally I mean, only just a rather curious person. I am very anxious to know something of the career of your pretty friend Miss Larchester, after she left the little village.” And then Miss Buckley spoke. It was evident she had been thinking pretty quickly while the young man was talking, and had made up her mind what sort of a story she was going to tell. “I have known Sir George on and off since the Brinkstone days, he mixes a good deal with artists; I knew his nephew through him when he brought him over from Australia and adopted him. I met Lettice Larchester a few times in London—they seemed to be getting poorer and poorer. Then suddenly they drifted away and I never heard any more of her.” Sellars was silent for a long time. “Then it comes to this,” he said presently, “you won’t tell me anything of your old friend.” “I have nothing to tell,” said the woman obstinately. “You do not know whether she is dead or alive?” persisted Sellars. “And if alive, whether she is married or single.” Again the same obstinate answer. “I know nothing, and now, Mr. Sellars, I think it is time to end this interview.” The young man was chagrined at the negative result of his visit. The only thing he was certain of was that Mrs. Morrice had certain secrets in her past life which this woman was resolved to guard jealously. Also she had told a deliberate lie about Archie Brookes in saying that her acquaintance with him had dated from his arrival from Australia. “I will trouble you no more on that subject, Miss Buckley. Are you disposed to be more frank with me on the subject of Archie Brookes?” She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “My good man, will you have the kindness to go. I know hardly anything of him except that he is Sir George’s nephew and came over here a few years ago from Australia.” Sellars looked her straight in the face. “And that, pardon me for my rudeness, is not a fact. When Sir George adopted him, he took him from your home, and at that time he was occupying a commercial post in the City.”