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"Maiden passing fair, turn away thine eyes! Turn away thine eyes ere my bosom burn,

"He told you?--Ah! you're only guessing," I said, and saw that I was helping her to guess more correctly.

"My mother! Do you know my mother?"

Not because of this speech, but of a soft rubbing sound on the window-sill behind me, my heart turned cold. Yet there I saw a most welcome sight. Against the outer edge of the sill an unseen hand was moving a forked stick to and fro. The tip of one of its tines was slit, in the slit was a white paper, and in the fork hung the bridle of my horse. I glided to the window. But there bethinking me how many a man had put his head out at just such a place and never got it back, I made a long sidewise reach, secured the paper, and read it.

I halted; not making a point of valor or discretion, but because he was Charlotte Oliver's husband. I read his purpose and listened behind me as we parleyed. "Don't halt me, sir, I'm a courier and in a hurry."

"They were neither of them present, Lieutenant; that hand was Miss Coralie Rothvelt's."

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