The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. After the day in the library, he constantly demonstrated his affections; Gianfrancesco had never done that. Having ascertained by the breathing which room Thames occupied, he speedily contrived to fasten him in. First-off, he had decided not to tell her what he had found at the bottom of that manila envelope. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. "A good idea!" exclaimed the carpenter. “I believe it is.
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