A day or two before Easter, I was sitting in my office, finishing up some scraps of work, and ever and anon casting happy glances at my portmanteau, which stood in the corner. I was just off to spend a fortnight with my old friend Colonel Gunton, in Norfolk, and I was looking forward to seeing him again with great pleasure. We had not met for ten years, and I had never been to his place or seen any of his family. It would be delightful. The telephone bell rang. "Oh, confound it! I hope that's nothing to keep me!" I exclaimed; and I rose to see to it. "Mr. Miller? Are you there?" "Yes." "All right. I'll come round." A few minutes passed, and then my clerk announced, "A lady to see you, sir." A remarkably pretty girl of about eighteen was ushered in. She stood still some way from me till the door was closed. Then she suddenly rushed toward me, fell at my feet, and exclaimed, "You will protect me, won't you?" "My dear young lady, what in the world----" "You're the famous Mr. Miller, aren't you? Mr. Joseph Miller, the philanthropist?" "My name is Joseph Miller certainly." "Ah! Then I am safe;" and she sat down in an armchair, and smiled confidingly at me. "Madam," said I sternly, "will you have the goodness to explain to what I owe the pleasure of this visit?" "They told me to come to you." "Who?" "Why, the people at the police station." "The police station?" "Yes, when they let me go--because it was a first offense, you know. They said you always took up cases like mine, and that if I stuck to you I should be well looked after." It was quite true that I have taken an interest in rescuing young persons from becoming habitual criminals; but I was hardly prepared for this. "What have you been doing?" "Oh, nothing this time--only a bracelet." "This time?" "They didn't know me up here," she explained smilingly. "I've always practiced in the country. Wasn't it lucky? But really, Mr. Miller, I'm tired of it; I am indeed. The life is too exciting: the doctors say so; so I've come to you." The case was a strange one, but I had no time to investigate it now. It wanted only half an hour to the time my train left Liverpool Street. "What is your name?" I asked. "Sarah Jones." "Well, I will have your case looked into. Come and see me again; or, if you are in distress, you may write to me--at Colonel Gunton's, Beech Hill, Norfolk. I shall be staying there----" "Going now?" "I start in a few minutes." "Oh, I'll come with you." "Madam," I answered, with emphasis, "I will see you--out of the office first." "But what am I to do? Oh, it's nonsense! I shall come. I shall say I belong to you." I rang the bell. "Show this lady out, Thomas, at once."