She communed with herself for a few moments. She was very curious to know the secret of those papers; just as curious as that other mariner had been. But when you get beyond a certain age, they tell you it is rude to be curious--more’s the pity! It takes away half the pleasure from life. She wanted so much to know. The mystery that surrounded John Grey in Fetter Lane was clinging to him here in Kensington Gardens. She felt just as curious about him as did Mrs. Meakin, and Mrs. Rowse; and Mrs. Morrell, and, like them, she was afraid to show it to him. Presently she left off scratching her patterns in the mould and raised her head, looking out wistfully across the pond. "Ronald was delighted to be carrying secret papers," she said pensively. "Was he?" "Yes--he’s been reading Stevenson, and Henty, and all those books--the idea of secret papers was just what he loved." John’s eyes twinkled. "Do you think he told that other boy?" he asked. "Oh--no--I’m sure he wouldn’t." "Not if he got the other boy to play the part of Thomas Grey--and satisfied his conscience like that?" "No--because he delivered them to you. I’m sure he never looked at them. You’re the only one who knows the secret." John’s eyes twinkled again. She was so curious to know. "It’s a terrible thing to be the only possessor of a secret like that," he said solemnly. She glanced quickly at his face. "It is, if it’s something you mustn’t tell," said she. And you could hear the question in that; just the faint lingering note of it; but it was there. Of course, if he could not tell, the sooner she knew it the better. You can waste upon a person even so poor a sentiment as curiosity, and when a woman gets proud, she will give you none of it. If he had kept his secret another moment longer, she would undoubtedly have got proud; but just then, there came into view the insignificant little figure of a man in faded, dirty livery, a peaked cap, a sleuth-like, watchful air and, hidden in the grasping of his hand, there was a fateful ticket puncher. Two seats, and John had only a penny! What can one do under such circumstances as these? He looked helplessly through his mind for a way out of the dilemma. He even looked on the ground to see whether some former charitable person had thrown away their tickets when they left--he always did as much for the cause of unknown humanity himself. You never know how many people there are in London with only a penny in their pockets. But he looked in vain. There were only the figures that she had carved and scratched out in the mould.