So much the better. But who then was the culprit? What was the ground, what the origin, what the perfect explanation of the whole business? Some points had been cleared, but how many yet remained obscure as night!

“However,” I said to myself, “it is no affair of yours;” and turning from the face on which I had been unconsciously dwelling with a questioning gaze, I looked through the window which commanded the garden below. Dr. John, meantime, standing by the bedside, was slowly drawing on his gloves and watching his little patient, as her eyes closed and her rosy lips parted in coming sleep. I waited till he should depart as usual, with a quick bow and scarce articulate “good-night.” Just as he took his hat, my eyes, fixed on the tall houses bounding the garden, saw the one lattice, already commemorated, cautiously open. Forth from the aperture projected a hand and a white handkerchief; both waved. I know not whether the signal was answered from some viewless quarter of our own dwelling, but immediately after there fluttered from the lattice a falling object, white and light—billet the second, of course.

“There!” I ejaculated involuntarily.

“Where?” asked Dr. John with energy, making direct for the window. “What is it?”

“They have gone and done it again,” was my reply. “A handkerchief waved and something fell.” And I pointed to the lattice, now closed and looking hypocritically blank.

“Go at once; pick it up and bring it here,” was his prompt direction, adding, “Nobody will take notice of vou; I should be seen.”

Straight I went. After some little search I found a folded paper, lodged on the lower branch of a shrub. I seized and brought it direct to Dr. John. This time, I believe, not even Rosine saw me.

He instantly tore the billet into small pieces, without reading it.

“It is not in the least her fault, you must remember,” he said, looking at me.

“Whose fault?” I asked. “Who is it?”

“You don’t yet know, then?”

“Not in the least.”

“Have you no guess?”

“None.”

“If I knew you better, I might be tempted to risk some confidence, and thus secure you as guardian over a most innocent and excellent but somewhat inexperienced being.”

“As a duenna?” I asked.

“Yes,” said he abstractedly. “What snares are round her!” he added musingly. And now, certainly for the first time, he examined my face, anxious, doubtless, to see if any kindly expression there would warrant him in recommending to my care and indulgence some ethereal creature, against whom powers of darkness were plotting. I felt no particular vocation to undertake the surveillance of ethereal creatures; but recalling the scene at the bureau, it seemed to me that I owed him a good turn. If I could help him then I would, and it lay not with me to decide how. With as little reluctance as might be, I intimated that “I was willing to do what I could towards taking care of any person in whom he might be interested.”

“I am no further interested than as a spectator,” said he, with a modesty admirable, as I thought, to witness. “I happen to be acquainted with the rather worthless character of the person who, from the house opposite,