constant visitor there for eighteen months and was deeply in
love with Peggy. On a Bank Holiday he had been fortunate
enough to rescue her from a noisy crowd, half-drunk and
indulging in horse-play, and had escorted her home to receive
the profuse thanks of the Professor. The detective was
attracted by the quaint little man, and he called again to
inquire for Peggy. A friendship thus inaugurated ripened into
a deeper feeling, and within nine months Jennings proposed for
the hand of the humble girl. She consented and so did Le
Beau, although he was rather rueful at the thought of losing
his mainstay. But Peggy promised him that she would still
look after him until he retired, and with this promise Le Beau
was content. He was now close on seventy, and could not hope
to teach much longer. But, thanks to Peggy's clever head and
saving habits, he had--as the French say--"plenty of bread
baked" to eat during days of dearth.

The Academy was situated down a narrow street far removed from
the main thoroughfares. Quiet houses belonging to poor people
stood on either side of this lane--for that it was--and at
the end appeared the Academy, blocking the exit from that
quarter. It stood right in the middle of the street and
turned the lane into a blind alley, but a narrow right-of-way
passed along the side and round to the back where the street
began again under a new name. The position of the place was
quaint, and often it had been intended to remove the
obstruction, but the owner, an eccentric person of great
wealth, had hitherto refused to allow it to be pulled down.
But the owner was now old, and it was expected his heirs would
take away the building and allow the lane to run freely