"About?" John Steele's eyes asked a question; the other nodded. "Of
course; not difficult to understand; her desire to hush up the affair;
her fear," with a short laugh, "lest the scandal become known. A guest
at Strathorn House had been--"

"I don't think it was for--"

"You found out," shortly, "that she, too, had learned--knew--"

"Yes; she made me aware of that at once when she came to see me with Sir
Charles. It was she sent your luggage--"

"Sir Charles? Then he, also?--"

"No. You--you need feel no apprehension on that score." A peculiar
expression came into the other's glance. "You see his niece told him it
was not her secret; asked him to help her, to trust her. Never was a man
more perplexed, but he kept the word he gave her on leaving for London,
and forebore to question her. Even when they drove through London in
that fog--"

"Yes, yes. I know--"

"You? How--?"

John Steele seemed not to hear. "She saw you that night?"

"She did, alone in the garden of Rosemary Villa. Sir Charles behaved
splendidly. 'All right, my dear; some day you'll tell me, perhaps,' he