“Will you sit down for a little while?” With a graceful inclination of her head the girl accepted the invitation. Her voice was free from the foreign accent which Edith had expected. She was indubitably English, and there was a refinement in her tone which Edith had not expected to meet. “I suppose you wonder why I have sent for you?” asked Edith Standerton. The girl showed two rows of white, even teeth in a smile. “When people send for me,” she said demurely, “it is either to pay me for my music, or to bribe me to desist!” There was frank merriment in her eyes, her smile lit up the face and changed its whole aspect. “I am doing both,” said Edith, “and I also want to ask you something. Do you know my husband?” “Mr. Standerton,” said the girl, and nodded. “Yes, I have seen him, and I have played to him.” “Do you remember a night in June,” asked Edith, her heart beating faster at the memory, “when you came under this window and played”--she hesitated--“a certain tune?” The girl nodded. “Why, yes,” she said in surprise, “of course I remember that night of all nights.” “Why of all nights?” asked Edith quickly. “Well, you see as a rule my grandfather plays for Mr. Standerton, and that night he was ill. He caught a bad chill on Derby Day,--we were wet through by the storm, for we were playing at Epsom--and I had to come here and deputise for him. I did not want to go out a bit that night,” she confessed with a bitter laugh, “and I hate the tune; but it was all so mysterious and so romantic.” “Just tell me what was ‘mysterious’ and what was ‘romantic,’” said Edith. The coffee came in at that moment, and she poured a cup for her visitor. “What is your name?” she asked. “May Wing,” said the girl. “Now tell me, May, all you know,” said Edith, as she passed the coffee, “and please believe it is not out of curiosity that I ask you.” “I will tell you everything,” said the girl, nodding. “I remember that day particularly because I had been to the Academy of Music to take my lesson--you would not think we could afford that, but granny absolutely insists upon it. I got back home rather tired. Grandfather was lying down on the couch. We live at Hoxton. He seemed a little troubled. ‘May,’ he said, ‘I want you to do something for me to-night.’ Of course, I was quite willing and happy to do it.” The girl stopped suddenly. “Why, how extraordinary,” she said, “I believe I have got proof in my pocket of all that I say.” She had hanging from her waist a little bag of the same material as her dress, and this she opened and searched inside. She brought out an envelope. “I will not show you this yet,” she said, “but I will tell you what happened. Grandfather, as I was saying, was very troubled, and he asked me if I would do something for him, knowing of course that I would. “‘I have had a letter which I cannot make head or tail of,’ he said, and he showed me this letter.” The girl held out the envelope.