heard his name except in connection with public matters in the Press.
O, yes. I make that promise readily. I trust you implicitly!"

CHAPTER VI

CLOSE QUARTERS

Theydon escorted Miss Beale downstairs. As they passed the closed door
of No. 17, the lady shivered.

"To think that within the next few days I would have been staying
there with Edith, and planning evenings at the theater before going to
Newquay!" she murmured; there was a pitiful catch in her voice that
told better than words how the remainder of her existence would be
darkened by the tragedy.

At best she was a shrinking, timid little woman, for whom life
probably held but narrow interests. Such as they were, their placid
content was forever shattered. The death of her niece had closed the
one chief avenue leading to the outer world. She would retire to the
quiet back-water of Iffley, to become more faded, more insignificant,
more lonely each year.

Theydon commiserated with her deeply and did not hesitate to utter his
thoughts while putting her into a cab.

"Have you no friends in London?" he inquired. "I don't like the notion
of sending you off alone into this wilderness. London is the worst
place in the world for any one in distress. The heedless multitude
seems to be callous and unsympathetic. It isn't, in reality. It simply