Some of the biggest houses in the country. Mr Nelson's family lived there for years, long before there was any garden city. Remember his grandfather; a fine old fellow he was."

    The postmaster was prepared to offer detailed biographies of the favoured folk who lived at Beverley Green, and Andy was anxious to catch another glimpse of the girl, and cut short the explanation.

    He saw her walking quickly down the middle of the road, and guessed that she was on her way to the railway station.

    He was puzzled and irritated. How might he explain her agitation? What had she to fear from detectives? What folly, big or small, had been responsible for the cold terror that had come to her eyes?

    It was a waste of time to consider the cause. The folk of these little towns, picturesque, aloof from the world, where the stream of life seemed so idyllic and unruffled by the great passion storms which lash the surfaces of the cities, must inevitably experience crises no less tragic than these which disturb the people of the greater world. But—

    The word 'detective', implying, as it would, the secret investigations of the law, holds no discomfort for normal, law-abiding people.

    "Humph!" said Andy, and rubbed his smooth chin. "This won't catch Scottie!"

    He drove the car out of the village, intending to push forward to the main road and begin his quartering of the network of secondary feeders which lie to the south from a point twenty miles away.

    Slowing to take a sharp bend, a mile or more from Beverley, he saw an opening in the hedge to the right. There was a broad, gravelled boulevard flanked by trees; the paths, bordered by well-trimmed turf, curved out of view. An artistic signpost said private road to beverley green.

    His speed had carried him beyond the opening, and he backed, looked thoughtfully at the sign, then turned into the drive. It was hardly likely that Scottie would pass into what was probably a dead end. On the other hand, Scottie was a versatile genius and a great opportunist. And Beverley Green was a rich community. So Andy told himself by way of excuse, though in his heart he knew that his curiosity had its causation in a new interest. He wanted to see the house in which she lived. What kind of style did Miss Nelson keep up?

    The drive twisted and turned and at last took a sharper turn than usual, and Beverley Green, in all its summery beauty, came suddenly into view. Andy reduced speed to a walking pace. Before him was a broad space. It was almost flat, and was fringed with an unbroken border of flowering shrubs. Within a dozen yards from the drive was a tee, an indication of a golf course which probably extended along the valley. Set about the green, half revealed through the trees which surrounded them, were a dozen houses. A glimpse of a gable, a flash of a white-sashed window, a hint of timbering, the upstanding lift of a twisted Elizabethan chimney, indicated the type of architecture.

    Andy looked around for somebody to question. The road bent sharply left and right from where he sat, and at the corner was a quaintly shingled building which suggested a club. He guessed it was a notice-board attached to the gatepost, and was getting out of the car to investigate further when a man came into view around the corner on which the building was situated.

    "Prosperous city merchant—retired," said Andy mentally. "Black alpaca coat, broad-toed shoes, stiff collar, and a double watch-guard. Probably pompous, and wondering what the devil I mean by trespassing in these Elysian fields."

    Certainly the newcomer eyed the intruder gravely, though it would be an exaggeration to say that he looked in any way resentful.

    His age might have been anything between forty-five and sixty. The big, smooth face was unlined, and his gait was alert to the point of briskness. A big man, he supported his stoutness so well that Andy did not notice that he was inclined to fat until some time later.

    The greeting he offered dispelled any doubt of welcome that the visitor may have harboured.

    "Good morning, sir," he said. "You seem to be looking for somebody. The Green is a difficult locality for strangers; our houses have no names or numbers."

    He laughed sedately.

    "I am not looking for anybody in particular," said Andy, giving smile for smile. "I was led here by curiosity.