The night was bright and starlit, and the air refreshing. Turning to the left after leaving the house, we came immediately to a road which gave entrance to that secluded oval called The Boltons. I looked at the name-plate, and saw it was named Gilston Road. It must have been at this corner that I had been knocked down by a passing cab when, on my first adventurous journey alone, I had wandered so far westward. I turned to look back, and noticed that from the dining-room window of the house we had just left any occurrence at the corner in question could be distinctly seen. Edna had explained that she had witnessed my accident from that window, and in this particular had apparently told me the truth. The remarkable and unexpected discoveries of that evening had produced a veritable tumult of thoughts within my brain, and as I walked with Hickman I took no note of his merry, irresponsible gossip, until he remarked-- "You're a bit preoccupied, I think. You're pondering over Mabel's good looks, I suppose?" "No," I answered, starting at this remark. Then, to excuse myself, I added, "I was thinking of other things. I really beg your pardon." "I was asking your opinion of Mabel. Don't you consider her extremely handsome?" "Of course," I answered, trying to suppress my enthusiasm. "She's charming." "A splendid pianist, too." "Excellent." "It has always been a wonder to me that she has never become engaged," he remarked. "A girl with her personal charms ought to make an excellent match." "Has she never been engaged?" I inquired quickly, eager to learn the truth about her from this man, who was evidently an old friend of the family. "Never actually engaged. There have been one or two little love-affairs, I've heard, but none of them was really serious." "He'd be a lucky fellow who married her," I remarked, still striving to conceal the intense interest I felt. "Lucky!" he echoed. "I should rather think so, in many ways. It is impossible for a girl of her beauty and nobility of character to go about without lots of fellows falling in love with her. Yet I happen to know that she holds them all aloof, without even a flirtation." I smiled at this assertion of his, and congratulated myself that I was the only exception; for had she not expressed pleasure at my companionship on her walks? But recollecting her admission that the victim of the assassin's knife had been her lover, I returned to the subject, in order to learn further facts. "Who were the men with whom she had the minor love-affairs--any one I know?" I inquired. "I think not, because it all occurred before they returned to live in England," he answered. "Then you knew them abroad?" "Slightly. We met in a casual sort of way at Pau, on the Riviera, and elsewhere." "Both mother and daughter are alike extremely pleasant," I said. "In high spirits Mrs Anson is sometimes almost as juvenile as Mabel."