kindly treated and well paid, were strictly ruled, even comparatively
slight breaches of discipline being punished with instant dismissal. At
half-past ten everybody was supposed to be in bed, and up at six; for at
seven Mr. Fortescue took his first breakfast of fruit and dry toast.
According to Mrs. Tomlinson (and this I confess rather surprised me) he
was an essentially busy man. His only idle time was that which he gave to
sleep. During his waking hours he was always either working in his study,
his laboratory, or his conservatories, riding and driving being his sole
recreations.

"He is the most active man I ever knew, young or old," said Mrs.
Tomlinson, "and a good master--I will say that for him. But I cannot make
him out at all. He seems to have neither kith nor kin, and yet--This is
quite between ourselves, Mr. Bacon--"

"Of course, Mrs. Tomlinson, quite."

"Well, there is a picture in his room as he keeps veiled and locked up in
a sort of shrine; but one day he forgot to turn the key, and I--I looked."

"Naturally. And what did you see?"

"The picture of a woman, dark, but, oh, so beautiful--as beautiful as an
angel.... I thought it was, may be, a sweetheart or something, but she is
too young for the likes of him."

"Portraits are always the same; that picture may have been painted ages
ago. Always veiled is it? That seems very mysterious, does it not?"

"It does; and I am just dying to know what the mystery is. If you should