"Ah, I see it all!" he cried, with a quick glance. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. He could not know about the Remenham connection, could he? No one knew but her father and Martha.
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