he ought to do next, when he heard himself called by his name, and saw a
woman looking at him across the hedge of the neighbouring garden.

"Were you wishing to make any inquiries about the last occupants of Hazel
Cottage, sir?" she asked.

"Yes," Gilbert answered huskily, looking at her in an absent unseeing
way.

He had seen her often during his visits to the cottage, busy at work in
her garden, which was much smaller than the Captain's, but he had never
spoken to her before to-day.

She was a maiden lady, who eked out her slender income by letting a part
of her miniature abode whenever an opportunity for so doing occurred. The
care of this cottage occupied all her days, and formed the delight and
glory of her life. It was a little larger than a good-sized doll's house,
and furnished with spindle-legged chairs and tables that had been
polished to the last extremity of brightness.

"Perhaps you would be so good as to walk into my sitting-room for a few
moments, sir," said this lady, opening her garden-gate. "I shall be most
happy to afford you any information about your friends."

"You are very good," said Gilbert, following her into the prim little
parlour.

He had recovered his self-possession in some degree by this time, telling
himself that this desertion of Hazel Cottage involved no more than a
change of residence.