"I would not have ventured to call on you if I had not seen your name
in the newspaper," she went on.

Miss Beale certainly had the knack of saying unexpected things. It was
nothing new that Theydon should find his own name in print, but on
this occasion he could not choose but associate the distinction with
the cringe in No. 17; that he should be mentioned in connection with
it was neither anticipated nor pleasing. At the same time he realized
the astounding fact that he had not even glanced at a newspaper during
twenty-four hours.

"What in the world have the newspapers to say about me?" he cried.

"It-- it said-- that Mr. Francis Berrold Theydon, the well-known
author, lived in No. 18, the flat exactly opposite that which my
unhappy niece occupied. I-- I have read some of your books, Mr.
Theydon, and I pictured you quite a serious-looking person of my own
age."

He laughed. Bates entered, and was almost shocked at finding his
master in such lively mood.

"Oh, this lady has traveled from Oxford this morning; a cup of tea and
some nice toast, please, Bates," said Theydon. Then when the two were
alone together again, he brushed aside the question of his age as
irrelevant.

"I assure you that since this time yesterday I have lost some of the
careless buoyancy of youth," he said. "I had not the honor of Mrs.
Lester's acquaintance, but I knew her well by sight, and I received