a man met her at the stage door, a very old gentleman, who leant on a stick, and seemed very humpty-backed and bent. They went down the Strand together to Allen's, the great trunk-maker, and through the windows I saw them buy a couple of those big trunks, baskets covered with black leather, such as ladies take on their travels. ''Um,' thought I, 'she's on the flit.' "I was only just in time. Then they went down to Charing Cross Station, and so back to Hammersmith. The old gentleman went into the house with Miss Junniper, and stayed an hour or two, and then took his leave. Next day Miss Junniper did not go out. The boxes arrived, and towards midday an oldish lady--a middle-aged, poorly-dressed, shabby-genteel lady--called and stayed several hours. But no Burbidge, and nobody at all like him. I began to feel disappointed. The third day Miss Junniper went out again to rehearsal; the old gentleman met her as before, and the two drove in a cab to the City. I followed them to Leadenhall-street, where they went into the offices of the White Star Line. I did not go upstairs with them, and somehow I lost them when they came out. I ought to have guessed then what I did not think of till late that night. Of course, the old gentleman was Burbidge himself. He was an actor, and a nipper, therefore, at disguises. He'd been play-acting all along. He was the mechanic at Shrivelsby, the shabby-genteel old lady, and the old man most of all. I won't tell you how I cursed myself for not thinking of this sooner. It was almost too late when I did. My gent. had left the villa (to which they had returned), and he did not come back next day, nor yet the day after; and I was nearly wild with the chance I'd lost. He'd got 'the office,' that's what I thought, and I was up a tree. But the third day came a telegram for the young lady. I saw the boy deliver it and go off, as though there was no answer. Then she came out, and I followed her to the telegraph-office. I saw her write her message and send [Illustration: "A MAN MET HER AT THE STAGE DOOR, A VERY OLD GENTLEMAN" (p. 380).] it off. I'd have given pounds to read it, but I couldn't manage it; the clerk--it's their duty--wouldn't let me. I was countered again, and I was almost beat, and thinking of writing home to say so, when I saw Miss Junniper's message in the compartment where she had been writing. She'd done it with a hard pencil, which showed through. There was the address as plain as ninepence--no mystery or circumlocution--'Burbidge, King's Head Hotel, Kingston.' I was there the same evening, just before his dinner. I asked if Mr. Burbidge was there. Sure enough. He wasn't a bit afraid of being took, I suppose, so far off the line of pursuit, so he'd stuck to his own name, and was not even disguised. He gave in without a word. The tickets were on him, and in his bag upstairs a lot of the cash he'd stolen; likewise a wardrobe of clothes--the old gentleman's suit, and all the rest."