Lady Brenton was a tactful woman, and after having glanced once or twice in their direction, she smiled significantly at her son and dropped behind, on the plea of the narrowness of the lane, whispering a minute later in carefully lowered tones to Sir Edgar: "A most distinguished man, Edgar, and if I know anything of love affairs, we shall be parting with our pleasant little neighbour for good and all before the summer is over. Did you see the man's eyes? Positively worshipping her. Ah, well, it is good to be young, and once this is over----" But her own heart was like lead within her breast. CHAPTER XIV THE PLOT THICKENS The stroll through the leafy lane was a very pleasant one to Cleek though he strove to keep his thoughts fixed on the case which had called him to Hampton and the mysterious events which had taken place there. "A very fascinating woman, I should say," he said to Ailsa, referring to Lady Brenton, who was just behind them. "Very," was the quick answer, "and she is as good of heart as she is good to look at. It seems so sad that she should have such trouble, poor thing!" "Yes, I noticed that she was evidently in some deep distress," responded Cleek, quietly, "and I should say she has spent some sleepless nights over it, too." "That is just what I thought," said Ailsa, impulsively, "but she said she slept splendidly last night, and yet----" she broke off, evidently regretting the impulse under which the words had been uttered. "Yet what?" prompted Cleek, gently. Ailsa gave vent to a deep sigh. "Oh, I expect I must have been mistaken," she said, "but I thought I heard her moving down the corridor last night. But I couldn't have, of course." The queer little one-sided smile travelled up Cleek's face, but he made no comment, and the conversation drifted to other things, until they reached the gates of "The Towers." Here, however, his thoughts were recalled to the case of the Purple Emperor with a little jerk, for the butler, having ushered them into the hall, said: "Begging pardon, your ladyship, but there is a gentleman awaitin'." Lady Brenton turned with a frown puckering her smooth brows. "If it is a reporter, I will not see him!" she said, with a decisive wave of her hand. "You know that, Graves, very well. I told you yesterday not to admit strangers under any pretext." "Beggin' pardon, my lady, but it is not a stranger. It is the Indian gentleman, Gunga Dall," responded Graves with a reproachful look at his mistress for ever having doubted him. "He was most anxious to see your ladyship and is waiting in the drawing room." The exclamation that broke from his mistress's lips upon receipt of this statement was one of mingled relief and pleasure but a deep frown gathered on her son's face. "That nigger here again, Mater? I can't think how you can bear him about you," he said, irritably. "I should have thought you had had enough of them out in India." Lady Brenton's face showed signs of evident displeasure.