"And why didn't you come here at once?" "I thought I might be followed, miss." The girl bit her lip and nodded. "You did quite right," she said, and then after a moment's reflection, "We shall be in Paris next week. You had better go by the night train and wait for us at the flat." She gave the maid some money and after she had gone, sat for an hour before the fire looking into its red depths. She rose at last a little stiffly, pulled the heavy silken curtain across the windows and switched on the light, and there was a smile on her face that was very beautiful to see. For in that hour came an inspiration. She sought her father in his study and told him her plan, and he blanched and shivered with the very horror of it. Chapter XII Mr. Briggerland, it seemed, had some other object in life than the regeneration of the criminal classes. He was a sociologist--a loose title which covers a great deal of inquisitive investigation into other people's affairs. Moreover, he had published a book on the subject. His name was on the title page and the book had been reviewed to his credit; though in truth he did no more than suggest the title, the work in question having been carried out by a writer on the subject who, for a consideration, had allowed Mr. Briggerland to adopt the child of his brain. On a morning when pale yellow sunlight brightened his dining-room, Mr. Briggerland put down his newspaper and looked across the table at his daughter. He had a club in the East End of London and his manager had telephoned that morning sending a somewhat unhappy report. "Do you remember that man Talmot, my dear?" he asked. She nodded, and looked up quickly. "Yes, what about him?" "He's in hospital," said Mr. Briggerland. "I fear that he and Hoggins were engaged in some nefarious plan and that in making an attempt to enter--as, of course, they had no right to enter--a block of flats in Cavendish Place, poor Talmot slipped and fell from the fourth floor window-sill, breaking his leg. Hoggins had to carry him to hospital." The girl reached for bacon from the hot plate. "He should have broken his neck," she said calmly. "I suppose now the police are making tender inquiries?" "No, no," Mr. Briggerland hastened to assure her. "Nobody knows anything about it, not even the--er--fortunate occupant of the flat they were evidently trying to burgle. I only learnt of it because the manager of the club, who gets information of this character, thought I would be interested." "Anyway I'm glad they didn't succeed," said Jean after a while. "The possibility of their trying rather worried me. The Hoggins type is such a bungler that it was almost certain they would fail."