“To Canterbury!” I gasped. “Two hours’ walk at least, for I don’t suppose we can get a trap, and it is past three o’clock. Why not send your telegram from Ninescore?” “Mary, you are stupid,” was all the reply I got. She wrote out two telegrams--one of which was at least three dozen words long--and, once more calling to me to come along, we set out for Canterbury. I was tea-less, cross, and puzzled. Lady Molly was alert, cheerful, and irritatingly active. We reached the first telegraph office a little before five. My lady sent the telegram without condescending to tell me anything of its destination or contents; then she took me to the Castle Hotel and graciously offered me tea. “May I be allowed to inquire whether you propose tramping back to Ninescore to-night?” I asked with a slight touch of sarcasm, as I really felt put out. “No, Mary,” she replied, quietly munching a bit of Sally Lunn; “I have engaged a couple of rooms at this hotel and wired the chief that any message will find us here to-morrow morning.” After that there was nothing for it but quietude, patience, and finally supper and bed. The next morning my lady walked into my room before I had finished dressing. She had a newspaper in her hand, and threw it down on the bed as she said calmly: “It was in the evening paper all right last night. I think we shall be in time.” No use asking her what “it” meant. It was easier to pick up the paper, which I did. It was a late edition of one of the leading London evening shockers, and at once the front page, with its startling headline, attracted my attention: THE NINESCORE MYSTERY MARY NICHOLLS’S BABY DYING Then, below that, a short paragraph:-- “We regret to learn that the little baby daughter of the unfortunate girl who was murdered recently at Ash Court, Ninescore, Kent, under such terrible and mysterious circumstances, is very seriously ill at the cottage of Mrs. Williams, in whose charge she is. The local doctor who visited her to-day declares that she cannot last more than a few hours. At the time of going to press the nature of the child’s complaint was not known to our special representative at Ninescore.” “What does this mean?” I gasped. But before she could reply there was a knock at the door. “A telegram for Miss Granard,” said the voice of the hall-porter. “Quick, Mary,” said Lady Molly, eagerly. “I told the chief and also Meisures to wire here and to you.” The telegram turned out to have come from Ninescore, and was signed “Meisures.” Lady Molly read it out aloud: “Mary Nicholls arrived here this morning. Detained her at station. Come at once.” “Mary Nicholls! I don’t understand,” was all I could contrive to say. But she only replied: “I knew it! I knew it! Oh, Mary, what a wonderful thing is human nature, and how I thank Heaven that gave me a knowledge of it!”