The chauffeur, on the other hand, was a stranger. This for reasons that’ll come in later. I can say this now,—that he earned the bonus offered for speed; they were negotiating the streets of Jamaica Plain in a trifle under the seventy-five minutes. Pentecost stopped him at the corner of Centre and Greenough Streets, and after settling the bill and the bonus, turned east and walked rapidly up Greenough. As soon, however, as the sound of the car assured him that it was at a safe distance, he retraced his steps and kept on to the west or southwest, eventually coming to a little-used lane well beyond Torrington Road, from which, by crossing a long-abandoned vegetable garden, he could approach the Cripps mansion from the rear. * * * * * And now, just so you can keep the run of things as they come along, I’m going back a few days in order to show you how it happened that old Mrs. Temple was concealed in the bushes under one of the windows of the room on the left, at the very moment that Hugo Pentecost, after his plunge from the steamer into the Cape Cod Canal and the rapid drive in an automobile to the Roxbury district of Boston, was cautiously making his way toward the rear of the mansion. The old woman had been greatly relieved to notice a striking improvement in Mr. Haworth’s condition almost immediately after the first visit of Mr. Pentecost to the house, although she feared it was due to trickery by which the scoundrel (which she was sure he was) would in some way do him injury. The doctor she’d left word for at the drug store called the same evening and said there was nothing seriously wrong with him, and did no more than prescribe a tonic, nourishing food, and a complete rest. As the days passed and nothing transpired, Mrs. Temple felt less and less uneasiness, and it was nearly a week before things began to happen that revived her anxiety. They began on the morning of the fifth day after the Pentecost visit, and the first of them was the sending of her by Mr. Haworth on a most unusual errand—one that took her to some sort of foundry place in East Boston. And he told her if they didn’t have the kind of pulley wheel described in his letter, she must wait until they could get it for her. Her smoldering suspicions instantly burst into flame, yet she couldn’t refuse to go. It was a long journey and her imaginings of what might befall Mr. Haworth while she was away came near to making her turn back without doing the errand at all. She finally reached the office of the foundry and delivered the letter, but when they told her that they hadn’t the pulley wheel there but would send to the warehouse for it, she answered without an instant’s hesitation that she couldn’t wait, but would come another time. The men in the office called her attention to the fact that Mr. Haworth had said in the letter that she would wait for the pulley.