‘I’m not one of those tiresome, suspicious people, Mr Lawford, who distrust strangers. I have never been molested, and I have enjoyed many and many a most interesting, and sometimes instructive, talk with an individual whom I’ve never seen in my life before, and this side of the grave perhaps, am never likely to see again.’ She lifted her head with pursed lips, and gravely yet still flickeringly regarded him once more. ‘Well, I made some trifling remark—the weather, the view, what-not,’ she explained with a little jerk of her shoulder—‘and to my extreme astonishment he turned and addressed me by name—Miss Sinnet. Unmistakably—Sinnet. Now, perhaps, and very rightly, you won’t considered _that_ a very peculiar thing to do? But you will recollect, Mr Lawford, that I had been sitting there a considerable time. Surely, now, if you had recognised my face you would have addressed me at once?’ ‘Was he, do you think, Miss Sinnet, a little uncertain, perhaps?’ ‘Never mind, never mind; let me get on with my story first. The next thing my gentleman does is more mysterious still. His whole manner was a little peculiar, perhaps—a certain restlessness, what, in fact, one might be almost tempted to call a certain furtiveness of behaviour. Never mind. What he does next is to ask me a riddle! Perhaps you won’t think _that_ was peculiar either?’ ‘What was the riddle?’ smiled Lawford. ‘Why, to be sure, to guess his name! Simply guided, so I surmised, by some very faint resemblance in his face to his _mother_, who was, he assured me, an old schoolfellow of mine at _Brighton_. I thought and thought. I confess the adventure was beginning to be a little perplexing. But of course, very, very few of my old schoolfellows remain distinctly in my memory now; and I fear _that_ grows more treacherous the longer I live. Their faces as girls are clear enough. But later in life most of them drifted out of sight—many, alas, are dead; and, well, at last I narrowed my man down to one. And who now, do you suppose _that_ was?’ Lawford sustained an expression of abysmal mystification. ‘Do tell me—who?’ ‘Your own poor dear mother, Mr Lawford.’ ‘_He_ said so?’ ‘No, no,’ said the old lady, with some vexation, closing her eyes. ‘_I_ said so. He asked me to guess. And I guessed Mary Lawford; now do you see?’ ‘Yes, yes. But _was_ he like her, Miss Sinnet? That was really very, very extraordinary. Did you see _any_ likeness in his face?’ Miss Sinnet very deliberately took her spectacles out of their case again. ‘Now, see here, sir; this is being practical, isn’t it? I’m just going to take a leisurely glance at yours. But you mustn’t let me forget the time. You must look after the time for me.’ ‘It’s about a quarter to ten,’ said Lawford, having glanced first at the stopped clock on the chimney-piece and then at his watch. He then sat quite still and endeavoured to sit at ease, while the old lady lifted her bonneted head and ever so gravely and benignly surveyed him.