it and was rewarded by seeing lamp after lamp go out as he
approached.

The pant of a dozen motors, the shouting of various farewells and
then the sudden rushing forth of a long line of automobiles,
proclaimed that the fete of the day was about over and that peace
and order would soon prevail again in Claymore Inn.

Without waiting for the final one to pass, the judge slid around
to the rear and peered in at the kitchen door. If Mrs. Yardley
were the woman he supposed her to be from the sergeant's
description, she would be just then in the thick of the dish-
washing. And it was Mrs. Yardley he wished to see.

Three women were at work in this busiest of scenes, and, deciding
at a glance which was the able mistress of the house, he
approached the large, pleasant and commanding figure piling plates
at the farther end of the room and courteously remarked:

"Mrs. Yardley, I believe?"

The answer came quickly, and not without a curious smile of
constraint:

"Oh, no. Mrs. Yardley is in the entry behind."

Bowing his thanks, he stepped in the direction named, just as the
three women's heads came simultaneously together. There was reason
for their whispers. His figure, his head, his face, were all
unusual, and at that moment highly expressive, and coming as he