The Nether Millstone

by Fred M. White

She was still turning these new sensations over in her mind when she arrived at Keppel Terrace. The empty house seemed to look at her with blank, mocking eyes. For a long time she walked up and down before the house. An hour, two hours, passed before Mary noted anything to attract her attention. Then she thrilled as she saw Vincent Dashwood come swaggering along the terrace. He paused at the step of No. 16, and looked up at the house. Mary could see his gesture of passion. As he stood there, evidently nonplussed by his discovery, a boy came up to him and handed him a card, which he read and then tore up.

Greatly daring, Mary came along the pathway. She pulled her veil down and pretended to ring the bell at No. 17. Her back was to Dashwood; she calculated that he would not notice her, that she would be the last person in the world he was likely to meet. But Mary was trembling from head to foot.

"All right," she heard Dashwood say. "I suppose the lady told you what I was like?"

"That's it sir," the boy said. "The lady knew as you would come. She gave me a shilling for this job. I've been hanging about here since dinner time."

"Well, here's another shilling for you," Dashwood said in great good humour. "Tell the lady that you delivered the card properly and that I'll call after dark. As it happens, I know the address on the card you gave me."

The boy went whistling off down the road and Dashwood swaggered away. Here was a piece of luck that Mary had not expected. She had made up her mind to loiter about the street till she saw Dashwood, provided that he had not come and gone already. But she knew perfectly well that Dashwood and early hours did not go together, and upon that fact she had acted. Her idea was to follow the man, knowing that sooner or later he was certain to look for Mrs. Speed. But here was a piece of real good fortune on which she had not reckoned at all. Dashwood had read the address, and then, with his usual carelessness, had torn up the card. Mary was off the doorstep as soon as it was safe, and the pieces of torn card were in her hand. She had only to put them together and the address was here.

This was splendid! Here was a way of proving to Connie and Grace Cameron that she was a friend to be relied upon. Mary's heart warmed at the idea of it. Her fingers trembled as she pieced the fragments of the card together and read the address. It was clearly set out in a neat handwriting.

No. 24 Hamerton Gardens, N.W.--surely the new house was some distance away. Mary had yet to learn that these midnight flittings necessitated a change of neighbourhood at a considerable distance as to locality. A friendly policeman directed Mary into the Strand, and another told her which 'bus to take. By the time the girl arrived at her destination she had fourpence in her possession.

But she did not care about that. She was on the right track now, and if luck were dead against her she could walk home. Here was Hamerton Gardens at length, and the litter of straw and refuse before the house testified to the fact that somebody had recently occupied the house or left it. With a courage that was all her own, Mary walked up the steps and rang the bell. As nobody responded to the summons, she opened the door and walked in. She had made no mistake, she recognised the umbrella stand at a glance. There was no linoleum down in the hall as yet and the stair carpets were rolled up on the floor.

Somebody crossed the hall and entered a little room on the right. Mary fairly gasped as she noted the tall figure in the grey silk. She wondered if she could credit her eyes. For the tall figure in the grey silk was Lady Dashwood!