“What happened? Who was it? Does she know?” demanded Netta.

“Sh! I’ll tell you after this act,” said Bill. He was smiling, and his eyes were shining.

VII.

“HOW very queer!” said Mary. “Whatever can she mean?”

“Who?” asked Janet.

“The lady I sold the Chinese shawl to. I have just received this letter from her. She says she has ‘discovered something rather strange about the shawl, and should be so very grateful if you could make it convenient to call here one day, when I will explain to you what I mean.’ Did you ever hear of anything so mysterious?”

“I always said it was no ordinary shawl!” exclaimed Janet. “What on earth’s it been doing? Sounds rather uncanny. Are you going to do as she asks you?”

“I suppose I must. She writes very politely and nicely, and she asks me to choose my own day. It’ll have to be Saturday. Hand me my writing-case, will you, Janet?”

On Saturday afternoon Mary dressed herself with unusual care. At three o’clock she let herself out of the house, intending to go to Mrs. Mellowe’s house by omnibus. To her surprise a large saloon car was standing by the kerb, evidently awaiting someone. She descended the steps, staring, and as she did so the man in the driver’s seat turned to look at her. Mary fell back a pace, wondering whether she could escape, and what Bill was doing here.

Corkran slid out of the car.

“Ah!” he said sternly. “At last! Get in, please.”

Mary began to stammer. Corkran gave a great sigh.

“Get—in!” he repeated, and took her firmly by the arm.

“B-but I c-c-can’t! I don’t know how you f-found me, but I d-don’t want to see you, and I won’t go with you, and I wish you’d go away!” She found that she was being forced relentlessly into the front seat. “No, Bill, I can’t possibly go with you. I—I’ve got an appointment!”

“I’ll drive you there," said Corkran, shutting her in. He went round to the other side and got into the seat beside her, setting his foot on the starter. “Now, then, young lady! Did you or did you not see my advertisement in the Personal Column of the paper?”

“Yes,” murmured Mary, gazing straight ahead of her.

“Why didn’t you answer it?”

“Because I—oh, because I—I didn’t want to!”

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Oh!” he smiled. “You’re an awful little silly, Mary dear. What possessed you to cut and run, as you seem to have done? I heard all about it from Netta. She was ever so upset when you disappeared. After we’ve seen Mrs. Mellowe I’m taking you to her.”

“What!” Mary started. “What do you know about Mrs. Mellowe?”

He chuckled.

“That’s how I found you. I saw her at the theatre in your shawl. Recognized it at once, and tackled her. Between us we hatched this plot to find your whereabouts. Now this, Mary, is Battersea Park. I’m going to stop the car and talk to you very seriously.”