Something of this she recognized in Derrick, and the psychology of the moment was such that it meant more than she could well express. While she was with her mother, her heart needed no other companion, though her spirit was lonely. But she had not been lonely during her visit to Beech Lodge, however strange the circumstances. She knew now that the visit was intended. For the first time she had been in touch with another intelligence that acknowledged what she acknowledged but remained poised and unafraid. It was like traveling through an unknown and threatening country, and meeting one to whom all its roads are familiar and who traverses them without fear.

A few days after Derrick’s visit to the sergeant, he and his sister walked two lovely miles to the Millicents’. Edith was glad of it for several reasons. She admitted being lonely, and also welcomed anything that lifted her brother out of himself. For the past few weeks she had watched him closely, saying nothing. He was less distrait and more like his old self, but she knew that the novel progressed not at all. He was busy in his own peculiar way, and she asked no questions.

She was charmed with Mrs. Millicent, found they had much in common, and noted with contentment that Jean and her brother seemed like old friends. While all four were together, the subject of Beech Lodge was instinctively avoided, but a little later Derrick found himself in the cottage garden with Jean. It was after a pause that she sent him a straight questioning look.

“Well, I’m waiting. Something tells me you’ve been very busy and, I think, successful.”

“Busy, yes,” he smiled, “but I don’t know how successful.”

“Did you have a long talk at the police station?”

“Fairly long. The sergeant regarded me at first as most officials regard the amateur, but he was interested before I left. It seems that he regards your father’s case as the one unsatisfactory spot on his record. It’s odd to talk to a man who is so blunt and at the same time has to admit that he’s beaten.”

“But you haven’t told me yet. I know by your face there’s something.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “there is. Will you let me know what you can about a small image that came from Burma?”

“The jade god?” she said swiftly.

“Yes—or devil.”

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