years, too, didn't he?"

Penelope's eyes were suddenly upraised. For the first time Mr.
Coulson's ready answers failed him. Not a muscle of his face
moved under the girl's scrutiny, but he hesitated for a short
time before he answered her.

"Not that I know of," he said at length. "No, I shouldn't have
called him much of a traveller."

Penelope rose to her feet and held out her hand.

"It has been very nice indeed of you to see us, Mr. Coulson," she
said, "especially after all these other people have been
bothering you. Of course, I am sorry that you haven't anything
more to tell us than we knew already. Still, I felt that I
couldn't rest until we had been."

"It's a sad affair, anyhow," Mr. Coulson declared, walking with
them to the door. "Don't you get worrying your head, young lady,
though, with any notion of his having had enemies, or anything of
that sort. The poor fellow was no hero of romance. I don't fancy
even your halfpenny papers could drag any out of his life. It was
just a commonplace robbery, with a bad ending for poor Fynes.
Good evening, miss! Good night, sir! Glad to have met you, Sir
Charles."

Mr. Coulson's two visitors left and got into a small electric
brougham which was waiting for them. Mr. Coulson himself watched
them drive off and glanced at the clock. It was already a quarter