how innocent his motive.

After luncheon they drove five or six miles in the motor to Valley House,
a place of Jacobean times. There was an Italian garden, and an English
garden containing every flower, plant, and herb mentioned by Shakespeare.
Each garden had a distant view of the sea, darkly framed by Lebanon
cedars and immense beeches, while the house itself--not large as "show"
houses go--was perfect of its kind, with carved stone mantels, elaborate
oak panelling and staircases, leaded windows, and treasures of portraits,
armour, ancient books, and bric-à-brac which would have remade the family
fortune if all had not been heirlooms.

There was not a picture on the walls nor an old piece of jewellery in the
many locked glass cabinets of which Mr. Milton Savage could not tell the
history as he guided the Nelson Smiths through hall and corridors and
rooms with marvellous moulded ceilings. The liveried servant told off to
show the crowd over the house had but a superficial knowledge of its
riches compared with the lore of the journalist; and the editor of the
Torquay _Weekly Messenger_ became inconveniently popular with the public.

He was not blind to the compliment, however; and, motoring into Torquay
at the end of the afternoon with his host and hostess, expressed himself
delighted with his visit.

That night was his night for going to press, but he found time to write
the paragraph which Nelson Smith expected. Next morning a copy of the
_Messenger_, with a page marked, arrived at the Knowle Hotel, and
another, also marked, went to Valley House.

The bride and bridegroom were at breakfast when the paper came. There