Charley and I worked late in the afternoon, and went away in the last of the twilight. As we approached the gate of the park, however, I remembered I had left behind me a book I had intended to carry home for comparison with a copy in my possession, of which the title-page was gone. I asked Charley, therefore, to walk on and give my man some directions about Lilith, seeing I had it in my mind to propose a ride on the morrow, while I went back to fetch it. Finding the door at the foot of the stair leading to the open gallery ajar, and knowing that none of the rooms at either end of it were occupied, I went the nearest way, and thus entered the library at the point furthest from the more public parts of the house. The book I sought was, however, at the other end of the suite, for I had laid it on the window-sill of the room next the armoury. As I entered that room, and while I crossed it towards the glimmering window, I heard voices in the armoury, and soon distinguished Clara’s. It never entered my mind that possibly I ought not to hear what might be said. Just as I reached the window I was arrested, and stood stock still: the other voice was that of Geoffrey Brotherton. Before my self-possession returned, I had heard what follows. ‘I am certain _he_ took it,’ said Clara. ‘I didn’t see him, of course; but if you call at the Moat to-morrow, ten to one you will find it hanging on the wall.’ ‘I knew him for a sneak, but never took him for a thief. I would have lost anything out of the house rather than that sword!’ ‘Don’t you mention my name in it. If you do, I shall think you--well, I will never speak to you again.’ ‘And if I don’t, what then?’ Before I heard her answer, I had come to myself. I had no time for indignation yet. I must meet Geoffrey at once. I would not, however, have him know I had overheard any of their talk. It would have been more straightforward to allow the fact to be understood, but I shrunk from giving him occasion for accusing me of an eavesdropping of which I was innocent. Besides, I had no wish to encounter Clara before I understood her game, which I need not say was a mystery to me. What end could she have in such duplicity? I had had unpleasant suspicions of the truth of her nature before, but could never have suspected her of baseness. I stepped quietly into the further room, whence I returned, making a noise with the door-handle, and saying, ‘Are you there, Miss Coningham? Could you help me to find a book I left here?’ There was silence; but after the briefest pause I heard the sound of her dress as she swept hurriedly out into the gallery. I advanced. On the top of the steps, filling the doorway of the armoury in the faint light from the window, appeared the dim form of Brotherton. ‘I beg your pardon,’ I said. ‘I heard a lady’s voice, and thought it was Miss Coningham’s.’ ‘I cannot compliment your ear,’ he answered. ‘It was one of the maids. I had just rung for a light. I presume you are Mr Cumbermede?’