Having engaged comfortable quarters at the Bell and Horns, Nutford, we had a tea-dinner, and started to walk to Sheldon. It was a fine night, and Sophy distinguished herself as a pedestrian; the four-mile walk was accomplished in an hour and twenty minutes by the watch. The one narrow street of which the village could boast was still and quiet; not a soul was to be seen in it.

"After seven o'clock at night," said Bob, "place like a churchyard. Sleepy Hollow a paradise compared to it."

There was something inexpressibly depressing in the aspect of the street; the two or three poor shops were closed, and neither in them nor in the cottages was there a sign of life. The suggestion of a grave came to my mind.

"Remember Eden?" asked Bob, who was in the best of spirits. "Mark Tapley would have grown fat here."

At the end of the street we crossed a common, and then traversed an avenue of mournful trees, bounded by a stone wall.

"The outskirts of Tylney House," said Bob, with the air of a professional guide. "House can't be seen from this point. Nor from any point in particular. Lies in a valley. Observe the jagged glass at top of wall. Just here there's a bare spot. Think you could climb over it, Sophy, otherwise Maria?"

"Git over it like a bird," said Sophy. The conversation was carried on in low tones, Sophy's voice being sepulchral, in view of the part of the dumb patient she was presently to enact.

"Good girl. Prove yourself. There's a tree. Show us a climb."

It was a branchless tree, with scarce a knob on its straight trunk, and with nothing to hold on by, but Sophy tackled it unhesitatingly, and was a dozen feet above our heads in a twinkling. There she perched, peering over the wall into the grounds of Tylney House. Presently she scrambled down, and nudging Bob, said,

"Will that do?"

"You've got the heart of a lion," said Bob, admiringly. "I've no fears for you. Can you read?"

"No."

"Write?"

"No."

"Tell the time?"

"Oh, I can do that."

"That's a blessing. Here's a silver watch. A stem-winder. When we get back to Nutford I'll show you how to wind it up. What's the time now?"

"'Arf past eight."

"Correct. That tree is thirty feet high. Or thereabouts."

"What of that?"

"I should say it could be seen by anybody inside that stone wall. By you, when you're inside them. Now, Sophy, otherwise Maria, you have peculiarities. One, that you're dumb."

"Inside them walls," said Sophy, "I am. Dumb as a fish."

"Another, that you've an unconquerable habit of shying stones."

"I'm a dab at that," said Sophy.

"As a friendly patient," continued Bob, "you must be indulged. When you get it into your head to shy stones you're to be let alone. That's one of the conditions of your becoming a friendly patient."

"I twig. I'm to shy stones at that tree."

"You are. At certain times of the day. At twelve o'clock by the silver watch. At four o'clock by the same."

"Crikey!" exclaimed Sophy. "Yer don't mean to say I'm to have the ticker?"

"I do. Bought it for the special purpose. And it's not to be taken from you. When you shy stones at hours already stated I shall be outside. You don't shy many. Three, or four, or five. One of the stones is made of lead. I supply you with them. Here they are." He produced the pellets. "I give you some paper that you'll keep in your pocket. Lead stone wrapped in white paper means that you're quite comfortable. Lead stone wrapped in blue paper means you want to be taken away. Things not as they ought to be. That provides for your safety. We'll see you're not hurt, Sophy, otherwise Maria. I shall understand signals. An idea. Can you whistle?"

"Rather."

"Another of your peculiarities. As a friendly patient you're to be allowed to whistle. At twelve o'clock and at four I shall be in this neighborhood. I hear you whistle. I see the stones you shy, and the bit of lead wrapped in white paper. She's safe, I say to myself. Sophy, otherwise Maria, is quite comfortable with her weather eye open. Do you take all this in? Or shall I go over it again?"

"I know it by 'eart," replied Sophy. "It's a reg'lar game, that's what it is."

Here I thought it necessary to say a word.

"Suppose no stones at all are thrown, Bob?"

"In that case," said Bob, "without one minute's delay I ring the bell. I insist upon seeing my stepdaughter, Sophy, otherwise Maria. Leave it to me. I'll undertake that she comes to no harm. Time to get back to Nutford."

We left Sheldon without having been observed, I a little doubtful now that the adventure was to be seriously commenced, Bob very confident, and Sophy very bright. Before we went to bed we had a great deal of conversation, and Sophy convinced us that she perfectly understood Bob's instructions; then the silver watch was delivered to her as a prospective gift in the event of her success, and we retired to rest. Bob and I had each brought a Gladstone bag down with us, and Bob gave me another instance of his thoughtfulness by producing from his a small handbag, furnished with certain necessaries for a girl of Sophy's age, which he had purchased in London.

"You have really no fears for her, Bob?" I said as we undressed. He and I occupied a double-bedded room.

"Not the least," replied Bob. "She's a gem. Of the first water. Wash and comb her regularly--dress her decently--teach her to read and write--give her two or three years to grow up in--and there's no telling what she may become. Much obliged for the introduction. Much obliged also for the business in hand." He said this with perfect sincerity. Bob Tucker was in his element.

On the following morning he and Sophy set off for Tylney House. By Bob's advice I remained behind in Nutford. It would be best, he said, that Dr. Peterssen should not see me.

I waited in great anxiety for his return, and at three o'clock in the afternoon he was with me again.

"All arranged," he said. "Sophy is now a friendly patient in Tylney House. Did not tell you, did I, that I telegraphed to Peterssen from London yesterday afternoon?"

"No," I replied, "I was not aware of it. You lay your plans well, Bob."

"No use undertaking a job unless you do. I sent him telegram--'Coming to your establishment to-morrow with young patient. SILAS NETTLEFOLD.' We arrive in a fly--ring the bell--man appears. I ask, 'Dr. Peterssen at home?' 'Name............