The Yellow Holly. Hume Fergus

we could arrive at no conclusion. But in any case I don't see that Miss Ward giving me the holly has anything to do with Mrs. Jersey's alarm-if indeed she was alarmed."

      "I think she was," said Train, decisively, "and if I were you I would ask Miss Ward why she gave you the yellow holly."

      "What would be the sense in that?"

      "You might learn why Mrs. Jersey was startled."

      Brendon laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Your active brain is building up a perfect romance," he declared. "There can be no connection between Dorothy and Mrs. Jersey."

      "Did she know you were coming to stop here on that night?"

      "Yes. I told her so when I met her in the Park in the morning. It was then that she asked me to afternoon tea."

      "And at the afternoon tea she gave you the holly?"

      "Yes. You seem to think she did it on purpose that Mrs. Jersey-"

      Train interrupted him quickly. "It is you who are building up a romance now," he said. "I never thought anything of the sort. But I do say that the coincidence is strange."

      "What coincidence?"

      "That you should have in your coat a flower-I suppose one can call berried holly a flower-which awakens unpleasant recollections in Mrs. Jersey's breast."

      "In a word, Train, you fancy that an inquiry into the circumstances of the yellow holly may lead to a detection of the assassin."

      "I don't go so far as that. But I should not be surprised if something of that sort did eventuate."

      "Then you do go so far as that," said Brendon with a shrug. "However, there is nothing more to be said. My advice to you is to hold your tongue lest we should both get into trouble."

      "I am absolutely innocent."

      "So am I if it comes to that. All the same, the less said the better."

      Train shook hands with more cordiality than he had hitherto displayed. "I'll be silent for my own sake as well as for yours," he said, and the two parted, Leonard to pack up, and Brendon to journey with his bag for Kensington. Both men were conscious of a relief when they took leave of each other.

      "I wish he hadn't come here," said Train when Brendon departed.

      "I wish I had held my tongue," muttered George when he was in his cab. "That fool seems to think I know something about this matter."

      Of course the economy of the mansion was disordered when the crime was committed. But, thanks to the firm handling of Miss Bull, who now took the reins which had fallen from the hands of Madame, a few days put a different complexion on affairs. Margery knew where her aunt kept the money, and Miss Bull made several of the boarders behindhand pay up. Thus there was enough money to go on with, and Miss Bull decided to wait until after the funeral, before deciding what she intended to do herself. When Mrs. Jersey was buried her lawyer made his appearance with the will. It was read to Margery, and Miss Bull stopped beside the poor girl as the only friend she had in the world. The will was short and concise, as it seemed that there was very little to leave. The lawyer read it and then looked at Margery to hear what she had to say. The girl simply stared at him blankly, as though not comprehending his meaning, and Miss Bull touched her elbow.

      "Do you hear what he says?" she asked rebukingly.

      "Yes," replied Margery, "but I don't understand. Haven't I any money?"

      The lawyer would have read the will again, but Miss Bull held up her hand.

      "She is stunned with grief," said Miss Bull, "and is not capable of attending to business. Go and lie down, Margery, and I will speak to this gentleman."

      "You do exactly what you like, dear Miss Bull," said Margery, rising, and then turned to the lawyer. "Let Miss Bull do exactly as she likes. I leave all in her hands."

      "The most sensible thing you can do," said the legal adviser under his breath, and when Margery had left the room he turned to the old maid. "Is she an idiot?"

      "By no means. But she is not very clever. I have taken a great interest in her, as, to tell you the truth, Mr. James, she was badly treated by her aunt. If you will explain the will to me I will see what can be done to put things straight. I am sorry for the girl and she is devoted to me."

      "It is lucky she has such a friend," said Mr. James, heartily. He did not care much for Miss Bull, whose very presence seemed to inspire mistrust, but she was acting very well on this occasion. Moreover, as Margery was not likely to prove a lucrative client, Mr. James was anxious to shuffle the business onto Miss Bull's shoulders and get out of it as fast as he could. "What is it you wish to know?" he asked.

      "About this will," said Miss Bull, laying one thin finger on the document. "Madame leaves to Margery Watson, her niece, the money in the green box in her sitting-room, and also the jewels, which I presume mean the diamonds."

      "Yes. Also, if you will recollect, the clothes of the deceased lady.

      "Is there nothing else?" asked Miss Bull, raising her black eyes inquiringly. "What of the lease of this house?"

      "That is the property of Lord Derrington, and he only let the house to Mrs. Jersey by the year."

      "Is not that rather strange?"

      "Very strange. But the whole connection of Lord Derrington with my late client is strange. I know that she received from him an annuity of five hundred a year and the lease of this house-by the year, remember-from December to December. Now she is dead the annuity lapses, and the lease naturally will not be renewed after next month."

      "It is now the end of November," said Miss Bull, quite composed. "I understand you to say that the lease expires when December-"

      "It ends on the 31st of December," explained James, "and as Mrs. Jersey is dead it will not be renewed. Lord Derrington, so far as I know, has no interest in Miss Margery Watson."

      "What interest had he in Mrs. Jersey?" asked Miss Bull, scenting a scandal, and her eyes brightening.

      "I can't tell you that, and if I could I would not."

      "Quite right. I beg your pardon for asking, but you see in the interests of that poor girl I wish to know exactly how matters stand."

      "They stand as I tell you," said James, and rose to go. "I have nothing more to do in the matter and my connection with the late Mrs. Jersey ceases here."

      "One moment," said Miss Bull, quietly. "What of the furniture?"

      "That is also the property of Lord Derrington. He bought the house as it stood from the executor of the last owner, Mr. Anthony Lockwood, fifteen years ago. Mrs. Jersey wished to set up a boarding-house, so Lord Derrington placed her in here. Every stick in the place belongs to him. Should Miss Watson leave she goes with the jewels, the money in the green box, and with her deceased aunt's clothes."

      "A very poor outfit to start life on at her age," said Miss Bull, rising in her prim manner. "By the way, Mr. James, what is the name of the late Mr. Lockwood's executor?"

      "Roger Ireland," replied the lawyer, looking rather surprised. "Why do you ask?"

      "For my own satisfaction, Mr. James. If no one else will assist this poor girl I shall do so. Good-day."

      James departed with a better opinion of Miss Bull, although at any time he had no reason to have a bad one. But her manner inspired mistrust, and, kindly as she appeared to be acting towards Margery, he could not help thinking that there was more in her action than mere philanthropy. "You're a deep one," thought James. "I shouldn't wonder if we heard more of you."

      But so far as James was personally concerned he heard no more of the little woman. Miss Bull collected the boarders in the drawing-room after dinner and made a speech. She said that it was Margery Watson's intention to keep on the house, and that the terms would be as before. If any chose to stop they would be welcome, but those who decided to go could have their bills made out at once. Having thus acted as the mouthpiece of Margery, Miss Bull took the girl away to the sitting-room of the late Mrs. Jersey, the very one in which the tragedy had taken place. Margery was unwilling to enter, much less hold a conversation there, but Miss Bull,