with which the stranger had brought their conversation to an end as they
left the confines of the forest--

"And if thought and emotion can persist in this way so long after the
brain that sent them forth has crumbled into dust, how vitally important
it must be to control their very birth in the heart, and guard them with
the keenest possible restraint."

But Harris, the silk merchant, slept better than might have been
expected, and with a soundness that carried him half-way through the
day. And when he came downstairs and learned that the stranger had
already taken his departure, he realised with keen regret that he had
never once thought of asking his name.

"Yes, he signed the visitors' book," said the girl in reply to his
question.

And he turned over the blotted pages and found there, the last entry, in
a very delicate and individual handwriting--

"_John Silence_, London."




CASE II: THE CAMP OF THE DOG


I