The Master of the Priory by Annie Haynes

undoubtedly treating him; it was impossible that he could have offended her, and yet the difference was unmistakable.
    With a sigh of annoyance he heard Sybil come farther into the room. He wished he had gone into his study where he was less likely to be invaded.
    But Sybil was apparently not in one of her talkative moods. He heard her cross the room, then there followed a rustling of paper. He bore it in silence for a minute of two, then he said in a tone of mild exasperation:
    â€œWhat are you doing, Sybil? Surely you have the papers in the morning-room?”
    â€œNot the paper I want,” Sybil answered. “You only have one copy and it is brought here. I have found what I wanted now. It was only an advertisement I saw the other day.”
    â€œOf a new hat shop?” Sir Oswald questioned jestingly.
    â€œNo, not that,” Sybil answered absently. She was copying an address into her notebook. It stood at the bottom of a paragraph which at first sight it seemed impossible to connect with pretty, dainty Sybil Lorrimer.
    â€œPrivate Detective Agency,” it was headed. “Messrs. Gregg and Stubbs are prepared to conduct inquiries on the newest lines. Delicate investigations arranged with the utmost secrecy. Highest testimonials can be given. Address: Messrs. Gregg and Stubbs, 2 A , Palmer Buildings, New Fish Street, Birmingham.”
    Sybil closed her notebook and put it in her satchel. Then she hesitated a moment.
    â€œOswald, I—”
    There were voices outside. Maisie and her governess were coming downstairs. Sir Oswald rose as quickly as he could.
    â€œI must speak to Miss Martin. Excuse me, Sybil.”
    Sybil’s fair face hardened, her momentary irresolution vanished.
    â€œWell, good-bye then,” she called out with assumed gaiety as she ran down the steps and got into the waiting car.
    The great Metropolis of the Midlands was about an hour’s drive from the Priory. The road for the most part lay through pleasant, wooded country, sparsely populated until they reached the suburbs of the town.
    Sybil did not tell the chauffeur to drive to New Fish Street. Instead she got out in New Street and directed the man to drive to and wait for her at the nearest garage. She had her own reasons for wishing her visit to Messrs. Gregg and Stubbs to remain unknown.
    Even when she had got rid of the car she did not hurry herself; she strolled in and out of two or three shops, making trifling purchases, though it was easy to see that her thoughts were elsewhere.
    But at last she made up her mind to face the real business of the day. New Fish Street was some little distance away, in the new part of the town, but Sybil found her way there with but little difficulty. Palmer Buildings was a conspicuous block near the end of the street; it was apparently let out as offices, and Messrs. Gregg and Stubbs occupied the second floor.
    Sybil stopped a moment and glanced round nervously before entering the centre passage—but, no—there was certainly no one who would know her among the busy throng in the street. It seemed to her that even the lift-boy looked at her curiously as she gave the address of Messrs. Gregg and Stubbs. More than once she felt inclined to give up her expedition and turn back, but she was a little reassured by the businesslike aspect of the offices that confronted her.
    Mr. Gregg was in and would be at liberty in a few minutes, she learned on application to a solemn-looking youth in spectacles, who to her relief seemed to take no interest in her whatever. He showed her into a small waiting-room and retired.
    Sybil had time to ascertain that certain small trophies of hers were safe in her bag, and also to arrange in what words to open her business, before he returned to conduct her to Mr. Gregg.
    Sybil looked about her curiously as she entered. Mr. Gregg rose when the door opened and placed a large leather chair for her, with its face to the light.
    He was a tall,