our own importance? You say 'Bless me, how could anybody ever forget an introduction to Bassett Oliver!' But we must remember that to some people even a famous actor is of no more importance than—shall we say a respectable grocer? Marston Greyle may be one of those people—it's quite possible he may have been introduced, quite casually, to Oliver at some club, or gathering, something-or-other, over there and have quite forgotten all about it. Quite possible, I think."
"I agree with you as to the possibility, but certainly not as to the probability," said Mrs. Greyle, dryly. "Bassett Oliver was the sort of man whom nobody would forget. But here we are at our cottage—you'll come in, Mr. Dennie?"
"It will only have to be for a little time, my dear lady," said the old actor, pulling out his watch. "Our people are going back very soon, and I must join them at the station."
"I'll give you a glass of good old wine," said Mrs. Greyle as they went into the cottage. "I have some that belonged to my father-in-law, the old Squire. You must taste it—for old times' sake."
Mr. Dennie followed Audrey into the little parlour as Mrs. Greyle disappeared to another part of the house. And the instant they were alone, he tapped the girl's arm and gave her a curiously warning look.
"Hush, my dear!" he whispered. "Not a word—don't want your mother to know! Listen—have you a specimen—letter—anything—of your cousin, the Squire's handwriting? Anything so long as it's
