” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. Light the lantern. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. brick!” Part 10 “To think,” he cried, “you are ten years younger than I!. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed.
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