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Guide to Computer Forensics and Investigations, 5e, 9781285060033

Ch. 1 Solutions-2

11. What are the necessary components of a search warrant?

A search warrant must specify who, what, when, and where—that is, specifics on place, time, items
being searched for, and so forth—and include any supporting materials (affidavits and exhibits, for
example). In addition, a search warrant must be signed by an impartial judicial officer. In many cases, a
search warrant can limit the scope of what can be seized.
12. What are some ways to determine the resources needed for an investigation?
Determine the OS of the suspect computer and list the software needed for the examination.
13. List three items that should be on an evidence custody form.
Answers include case number, name of the investigator assigned to the case, nature of the case,
location where evidence was obtained, description of the evidence, and so on.
14. Why should you do a standard risk assessment to prepare for an investigation?
To list problems that might happen when conducting an investigation, which can help in planning your
case
15. You should always prove the allegations made by the person who hired you. True or False?
False
16. For digital evidence, an evidence bag is typically made of antistatic material. True or False?
True
17. Why should evidence media be write-protected?
To make sure data isn’t altered
18. List three items that should be in your case report.
Answers can include an explanation of basic computer and network processes, a narrative of what
steps you took, a description of your findings, and log files generated from your analysis tools.
19. Why should you critique your case after it’s finished?
To improve your work
20. What do you call a list of people who have had physical possession of the evidence?
Chain of custody
21. Data collected before an attorney issues a memo for an attorney-client privilege case is
protected under the confidential work product rule. True or False?
False. All data collected before an attorney issues notice of attorney-client privilege is subject to
discovery by opposing counsel.

Hands-On Projects

Hands-On Project 1-1

Students should extract two files with the Copy File feature: a spreadsheet listing several accounts and a
life insurance policy (Sylvia's Assets.xls) and a text message (suicide1.txt). To start the
program associated with each file, students should right-click the file and click View. Students should write
a brief statement of their findings from these two files. Reports shouldn’t make any conclusions about the
nature of the file contents.
Guide to Computer Forensics and Investigations, 5e, 9781285060033

Ch. 1 Solutions-3

Hands-On Project 1-2

Students should use the Content Search and Cluster Search tabs in the Search dialog box and enter the
keyword “book.” Their memos should describe the filename and cluster location of each hit. Students
should find approximately 24 hits.

Hands-On Project 1-3

This project allows students to practice keyword searches and shows that the information they seek might
not be in obvious places. In this project, for example, the account number students need to locate is in the
Count.gif file, so they must examine graphics files, too. Students should also perform the same search
for the keyword “book” in C1Prj03.dd as they did in Hands-On Project 1-2 with C1Prj02.eve and
find similar results—that is, more than 20 hits on the keyword “book.”

Hands-On Project 1-4

The project shows students how to extract specific data—in this case, files that haven’t been deleted in an
image.

Hands-On Project 1-5

Students practice selecting unallocated files and then generating a report.

Hands-On Project 1-6

Students need to apply all the skills they learned in the chapter to do this project on searching for keywords.

Case Projects

Case Project 1-1

Students need to do an assessment of what the case involves. What is the nature of the case? What
challenges do they expect to encounter, and how much time do they think the investigation will take?

Case Project 1-2

Most likely, Jonathan needs his computer to do other things in his business. Students need to acquire an
image (preferably two) of the drive. Also, they should look around for clues of other storage media, and
then go back to the lab and analyze the image. They should get as much detail as possible about the
company and the other person.

Case Project 1-3

Students need to ask who else had access to the computer, find out whether the firm that fired her did its
own investigation, and determine whether they can have access to the images. If no investigation has been
done, students should state whether they can make copies now.
Guide to Computer Forensics and Investigations, 5e, 9781285060033

Ch. 1 Solutions-4

Case Project 1-4

Students need to find out which OS she was using and ask whether she knows the names of essential files
or folders to make their search easier. Students need to formulate interview questions to determine whether
she might have added new data or altered data since the file deletion. They should understand that any file
deletion recovery depends on the amount of computer activity immediately following the data loss.
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
“I want to see Miss Miller. Will you send word to her that I
am here?”

“You say then that she and her father can testify that you
dined at Hyde Park Gate. Can they also testify that you
were given poison?”

“No. They left previous to Himes giving me the whisky.”

“And why did he do it?”

“I think because he mistook me for another man.”

“Poisoned you accidentally, eh?” he said, in doubt.

“Yes.”

“Very well,” he answered, with some reluctance, “I’ll make

inquiries of these people. What’s your name and address?”

I told him, and he wrote it down in his pocket-book. Then

he left, and so weak was I that the exertions of speaking
had exhausted me.

My one thought was of Ella. I cared nothing for myself, but

was filled with chagrin that just at the moment when I
ought to be active in rescuing her from the trap into which
she had fallen I had been reduced to impotence. Through
the whole night I lay awake thinking of her. Twice we were
disturbed by the police bringing in “accidents,” and then
towards morning, tired out, I at length fell asleep.

My weakness was amazing. I could hardly lift my hand from

the coverlet, while my brain was muddled so that all my
recollections were hazy.
I was, of course, still in custody, for beside my bed a young
constable dozed in his chair, his hands clasped before him
and his tunic unloosened at the collar. Just, however, before
I dropped off to sleep another constable stole in on tiptoe
and called him outside. Whether he came back I don’t
know, for I dozed off and did not wake again until the nurse
came to take my temperature, and I found it was morning.

I was surprised to see that the constable was no longer

there, but supposed that he had gone outside into the
corridor to gossip, as he very often did.

At eleven o’clock, however, the inspector came along the

ward, followed by two men in plain-clothes, evidently
detectives.

“Well,” he commenced, “I’ve made some inquiries, and I

must apologise, sir, for doubting your word. Still suicides tell
us such strange tales that we grow to disbelieve anything
they say. You notice that you’re no longer in custody. I
withdrew the man at five this morning as soon as I had
ascertained the facts.”

“Have you found that fellow Himes?”

“We haven’t been to look for him yet,” was the inspector’s
reply. “But—” And he hesitated.

“But what?” I asked.

“Well, sir, I hardly think you are in a fit state to hear what I
think I ought to tell you.”

“Yes. Tell me—tell me everything.”

“Well, I’ll do so if you promise to remain quite calm—if you

assure me that you can bear to hear a very extraordinary
piece of news.”

“Yes, yes,” I cried impatiently. “What is it? Whom does it

concern?”

He hesitated a moment, looking straight into my eyes.

“Then I regret to have to give you sad news, concerning
your friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Mr Miller. He is dead.”

“Miller dead!” I gasped, starting up in bed and staring at

him.

“He died apparently from the effects of something which he

partook of at the house of this American.”

“And Lucie, his daughter?”

“She is well, though prostrated by grief. I have seen and

questioned her,” was his answer. “She is greatly distressed
to hear that you were here.”

“Did you give her my message?”

“Yes. She has promised to come and see you this afternoon.
I would not allow her to come before,” the inspector said.
“From her statement, it seems that on leaving the house in
Hyde Park Gate she and her father walked along Kensington
Gore to the cab-rank outside the Albert Hall, and entering a
hansom told the man to drive to the Buckingham Palace
Hotel. Ten minutes later, when outside the Knightsbridge
Barracks, Mr Miller complained of feeling very unwell, and
attributed it to something he had eaten not being quite
fresh. He told his daughter that he had a strange sensation
down his spine, and that in his jaws were tetanic
convulsions. She grew alarmed, but he declared that when
he reached the hotel he would call a doctor. Five minutes
later, however, he was in terrible agony, and the young lady
ordered the cab to stop at the next chemist’s. They pulled
up before the one close to the corner of Sloane Street, but
the gentleman was then in a state of collapse and unable to
descend. The chemist saw the gravity of the case and told
the man to drive on here—to this hospital. He accompanied
the sufferer, who, before his arrival here, had breathed his
last. The body was therefore taken to the mortuary, where
a post-mortem was held this morning. I’ve just left the
doctor’s. They say that he has died of some neurotic poison,
in all probability the akazza bean, a poison whose reactions
must resemble those of strychnia—in all probability the
same as was administered to you.”

“Poor Miller!” I exclaimed, for even though he were a thief

he possessed certain good qualities, and was always
chivalrous where women were concerned. “Could nothing be
done to save him?”

“All was done that could possibly be done. The chemist at

Knightsbridge gave him all he could to resuscitate him, but
without avail. He had taken such a large dose that he was
beyond human aid from the very first. The doctors are only
surprised that he could walk so far before feeling the effects
of the poison.”

“It was a vendetta—a fierce and terrible revenge,” I said, in

wonder who that man Himes might be. That he owed a
grudge against Miller and his accomplices was plain, but for
what reason was a mystery.

“A vendetta!” exclaimed one of the detectives who had been

listening to our conversation. “For what?”
“The reason is an enigma,” I replied, with quick presence of
mind. “When I accused him of poisoning me, he merely
laughed and said he would serve all Miller’s friends in the
same way. It was the more extraordinary, as I had not
known the fellow more than four or five hours.”

“And you were not previously acquainted with him?” asked

the detective.

“Never saw him before in my life,” I declared.

“Well, you’ve had a jolly narrow squeak of it,” the plain-

clothes officer remarked. “Whatever he put into Miller’s
drink was carefully measured to produce death within a
certain period, while that given to you was perhaps not
quite such a strong dose.”

“No. I only took one drink out of my glass. Miller, I

remember, swallowed his at one gulp just before leaving. It
was his final whisky, and Himes mixed them both with his
own hand.”

“He had two objects, you see, in inducing you to stay

behind, first to prevent you both being struck down
together, and secondly he intended that it should appear
that you had committed suicide. Miss Miller does not
recollect the number of the house—do you?”

“No. I never saw the number, but would recognise it again.

Besides, Hyde Park Gate is not a large place. You could soon
discover the house.”

“He probably lived there under another name.”

“He had only recently come over from America, he told us,”
I said.
“And in all probability is by this time on his way back there,”
laughed the detective. “At any rate we’ll have a look about
the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Gate and gather what
interesting facts we can. We want him now on charges of
wilful murder and of attempted murder.”

“How long will it be before I can get out?” I asked. “Well,

the doctor last night said you’d probably be in here another
fortnight, at the least.”

“A fortnight!” What might not happen to Ella in that time!

Would Miller’s death change the current of events, I
wondered?

For poor Lucie I felt a deep sympathy, for she had regarded
her father as her dearest friend, and had, I think, never
suspected the dishonest manner in which he made his
income.

Himes was a clever scoundrel, without a doubt. He had

thoroughly misled a shrewd, far-seeing man like Miller, as
well as myself, by his suave manner and easy-going
American bonhomie.

“And now you’d better rest again,” said the inspector to me.
“Don’t worry over the affair any more to-day. Leave it to us.
When we find this interesting American, who gives his
friends poisoned whisky, we’ll let you know.”

I thanked all three, and they withdrew.

A moment later, however, the detective who had spoken

returned to me, and leaning over the bed said in a low,
confidential whisper so that none could hear:—

“The dead man—Mr Miller—he bore rather a bad reputation,

didn’t he? Was a bit of a mystery, I mean? Now, tell me the
truth.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, in feigned surprise.

“Well, you know what we mean when we say that,” he

exclaimed, smiling. “I don’t know how intimate you were
with him, but the fact is that the body’s been identified as
that of a man we’ve wanted for a very long time. He was
generally known as Milner, and lived on the Continent a
good deal. The French police sent us his photograph and
description nearly three years ago. This is it.” And he
showed me in secret an unmounted police portrait taken in
two positions, full face and side face.

“This surprises me,” I said. “Of course I’ve never had

anything to do with his business. Indeed, although I knew
his daughter well, I only knew him very slightly.”

“Oh, his daughter’s all right. We have no suspicion of her.”

“Then for her sake I hope you won’t reveal to her the truth
concerning her father. If he is wanted she need never know.
What use is it to revile the dead?”

“Of course not, Mr Leaf,” replied the officer. “I’ve got a

daughter of her age myself, therefore if the truth can
possibly be kept from her I’ll keep it. Rely on me. Now,” he
added, lowering his voice, “tell me—did you ever suspect
Miller of being a thief?”

“Well,” I said hesitatingly, “to tell you the truth I did. Not so
much from his actions as from the friends he kept. Besides,
a friend of mine once declared to me that he was a black
sheep.”

“My dear sir, if our information is true, he was wanted upon

twenty different charges, of fraud, forgery, theft, and other
things. A report from Italy is that he was chief of a very
dangerous international gang. Himes may have been one of
his accomplices, and quarrelled with him. In fact that’s my
present theory. But we shall see.”

“Remember your promise regarding Miss Lucie,” I urged.

“I’ll not forget, never fear,” was the detective’s answer, and
he turned and rejoined the other at the end of the ward.

I had only admitted my suspicions in order to make friends

with the officer, and in the hope of preventing him revealing
the truth to poor Lucie.

About six o’clock that evening I opened my eyes and found

my neat little friend, pale and tearful, standing by my
bedside.

She tried to speak, but only burst into a flood of tears.

I took her hand and held it, while the nurse, realising the
situation, placed a chair for her.

“You know the terrible blow that has fallen upon me!” she
faltered, in a low voice. “My poor father!”

“They have told me,” I answered, in sympathy. “How can I

sufficiently express my regret!”

She shook her head in sorrow, and her great dark eyes met
mine.

“Blow after blow has fallen upon me,” she sighed. “This is
the heaviest!”

“I know, Miss Lucie,” I said. “But you must bear up against

the terrible misfortune. We were both victims of an
ingenious blackguard. What did you know of the fellow? I
was under the impression that he was your friend?”

“Friend!” she echoed. “He always pretended to be—and yet

he killed my poor father in secret, and tried also to take
your life.”

“He believed me to be a friend of your father’s,” I said, “He

told me so when I accused him of having poisoned me—he
said his intention was to kill all your father’s friends, one by
one.”

“He said that!” she gasped. “He actually told you that!”

“Yes. He admitted that he had poisoned me, and laughed in

my face,” I answered. “But who is he? Where did you know
him?”

“He was once my father’s most intimate friend.”

And while she bent over my bed, her blanched, haggard

face near mine as she spoke, another figure came between
myself and the light.

I turned, and saw that it was my friend the detective, while

Lucie also recognised and greeted him instantly.

“As I was passing, I thought I’d just drop in and tell you,
feeling sure you’d be interested,” he said, addressing me;
“the fact is that this afternoon we’ve made a most amazing
discovery. Perhaps you will be able to throw some light
upon it. At present it is a complete and profound mystery.”
 Chapter Thirty Seven.
Needs some Explanation.

“What is it?” I asked anxiously.

“Well,” said the officer, looking meaningly at me, “I would

rather speak with you alone.”

“You mean that you want me to go away,” exclaimed Lucie

quickly. “Have you discovered anything further regarding
my poor father’s death?”

“No, miss. Unfortunately not. I want to consult Mr Leaf in

private—only for a few minutes.”

“Certainly,” she said; and, rising, passed along the ward and
out into the corridor.

“Well?” I inquired. “What is it?”

“Something that closely concerns yourself, Mr Leaf,” he said,

with a curious expression upon his face. “Perhaps you will
explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“The reason the Italian people have sent an agent over here
to apply for your arrest and extradition upon the charge of
murdering a police officer in a villa at Tivoli, near Rome.”

“They’ve done that!” I gasped, recollecting, however, that I

had showed my revolver licence to the carabineer, and
therefore they knew my proper name and description.
“Yes. And there is a second point which requires clearing
up,” he said, rather severely. “You told me that you were
only slightly acquainted with this man Miller, whereas it has
been established by the Italian police that he was at that
villa with you.”

“How established?”

“It appears, as far as we can gather from the police agent

sent from Rome, that a young man of very bad character
was seen in the vicinity of the villa on the night of the affair,
and was afterwards arrested in Rome. He gave the
description of one of his accomplices, an Englishman, and it
proves to have been the man Miller, whom the Italian
police, like ourselves, have wanted for a long time. So you
see what a serious charge there is against you.”

“I quite see it,” I answered, utterly amazed that I should

find such an allegation against me, after I had
congratulated myself upon my clever escape.

“The Italian police ask for the arrest of both yourself and
Miller.”

“Well, they won’t arrest him, at any rate,” I said. “And I

doubt whether they will arrest me when I tell the whole
story. You say they have made only one arrest in Rome?” I
added.

“Only one.”

Then Dr Gavazzi was still at liberty. He had decamped and

was in some place of safety with those packets of bank-
notes with which his pockets had bulged.

It certainly seemed as though I was to be placed under

arrest a second time. Formal application had been made to
Scotland Yard, and the fact that I had admitted
acquaintance with Miller, a known thief, did not allow them
any alternative but to obey.

The detective told me that, whereupon I asked to speak

with the Italian Agent.

“I’ll bring him to you in an hour’s time, or so,” was the

inspector’s answer, and when he had gone Lucie returned to
my side.

“You are upset, Mr Leaf. What has he discovered? Anything

startling?”

“No,” was my response. “Only a fact that surprises me.

Really nothing which has any important bearing upon the
affair. Ah!” I sighed, “how I long to be strong enough to
leave this place and to see Ella. Will you endeavour to see
her? Tell her I am here. I must see her—must, you
understand.”

“I’ll go straight to Porchester Terrace,” she promised. “But if

you see that man Gordon-Wright say nothing. Do not
mention me, remember.”

“I quite understand.” And as the nurse approached, Lucie

took my hand, bending for a moment over my bed, and
then left me.

An hour later my friend the detective was again at my

bedside, accompanied by a short, thick-set, black-bearded
little man, typically Italian.

“I hear you have been sent to England to effect my arrest,”

I exclaimed in his own language.

“That is so, signore, though I much regret it.”

“You need not regret. You are only doing your duty,” I said.
“But I merely wish to assure you that I have no intention of
trying to escape you. In fact, I couldn’t walk the length of
this room at present to save my life. I’m too weak. But
before you place a constable on duty here, I would ask you
one favour.”

“What is that?”

“To convey a letter for me to the secretary at the Italian

Embassy in Grosvenor Square. He will give you instructions
regarding me.”

“Then you are known at the Embassy!” the police agent

exclaimed, in surprise.

“I think you will find that I am.”

The nurse brought a pen, ink and a sheet of paper, upon

which after great difficulty I wrote a note recalling my
confidential visit regarding Nardini’s death, and explaining
that the police were in error in thinking that I had any hand
in the death of the guardian of the Villa Verde. I had been
at the villa, I admitted, but out of curiosity, as I had
watched the action of Miller and his companions. If any one
were sent to me from the Embassy, I said, I would make a
confidential statement.

When I had sealed the letter, the police agent took it, and
next morning I received a call from the official with whom I
had had a chat on the occasion of my visit to the Embassy.
To him I explained the whole circumstances in strictest
confidence, and described the secret hiding-place in the
dead man’s library where were concealed a number of
official papers that were evidently of great importance.
He heard me to the end, and afterwards reassured me by
saying:—

“We have already given the police commissario instructions

not to take any further steps against you, Mr Leaf. We quite
accept your explanation, and at the same time thank you
for this further information you are able to give us. A search
shall be made at the spot you indicate.”

And then I took a piece of paper and pencil, and drew a

plan of the concealed cupboard and how to open the panel.

Shortly after the Embassy official had left the police agent
again visited me, presented his apologies for having
disturbed me, and then throughout the day I remained
alone with my own apprehensive thoughts regarding Ella.

She was prevented from coming to me on account of that

man in whom she went in such deadly terror. Nothing had
yet got into the papers concerning the dastardly attempt
upon me, for the police had been very careful to keep it
from those inquisitive gentlemen-of-the-press who called at
the hospital every few hours to gather news of the latest
accidents or tragedies. But if Lucie had told her I knew how
alarmed and anxious she would be. She loved me—ah, yes,
she loved me. Of that I felt confident.

Yet would she ever be mine? Was it the end—the end of all?
Was the old sweet life of that summer beside the sea dead
and gone for evermore? Should I never see a red rose, her
favourite flower, bloom upon its bush without this sickness
of soul upon me? Should I never smell the salt of the sea,
or drink the cornfields’ breaths on a moonlit night without
this madness of memory that is worse than all death?

Was she lost to me—lost to me for ever?

I forgot that the inquest upon Miller was to be held that
afternoon, and that Lucie was the principal witness. The
Coroner, a sharp-featured, grey-bearded man, came to my
bedside, and with a clerk and the foreman of the jury, put
me upon oath and took my evidence—evidence to the effect
that I had dined in company with the deceased at the
American’s flat. I explained how our host had mixed those
final drinks—draughts that he intended should be fatal.

Then when I had concluded by declaring that I had no

previous knowledge of Himes, the Coroner made me sign
the statement, and returned to where the jury awaited him.

The Coroner’s officer, a police-sergeant in uniform, told me

that they were taking precautions to keep the affair out of
the papers, as they feared that the publication of the
evidence might defeat their efforts to trace Himes.

Shortly after five o’clock Lucie came again, looking pale and
agitated after the ordeal of giving evidence. A verdict of
“death from poison wilfully administered” had been
returned.

The Coroner and jury had questioned her closely regarding

her father’s mode of life and his recent movements. Of the
latter she was, of course, unaware. She only knew that he
had been called unexpectedly to Rome, and had returned
direct to England. Of the reason of his flying visit to Italy
she was entirely unaware. He seldom, she said, ever told
her about his own affairs, being naturally a close man
regarding everything that concerned himself.

“They asked me about the man Himes,” she said, as she sat
by my bedside, “and I was compelled to tell them how he
had once been poor dad’s most intimate friend.”

“Did he ever meet Ella, do you think?” I asked suddenly.

“Never to my knowledge. Why?”

“I was only wondering—that’s all. Perhaps he knew Gordon-

Wright.”

“I believe he did. They met one night when we were living

in rooms at Fulham, if I recollect aright, and about six
months later they went for a holiday together in Germany.”

“Did you ever meet that Italian doctor Gennaro Gavazzi who
lived in Rome?”

She looked at me with a quick suspicion that she was

unable to disguise.

“Why do you ask that?” she inquired, without reply to my

question.

“Because he was a friend of your father’s. You told me so. I

once knew him slightly,” I added, in order to reassure her.

“And you didn’t know much good concerning him, eh?” she
asked, looking at me apprehensively.

“He was private secretary to Nardini, I believe, was he not?”

“Yes, and his factotum. He did all his dirty work—a

scoundrel of the very first water.”

“And yet your father was very friendly with him. He has
been staying in Rome with him.”

“I believe he did. But I could never discover why poor dad

was so fond of that man’s society. To me, it was always a
mystery.” And then she went on, in a low, broken voice, to
describe to me all that had occurred at the inquest.
“There was a short, dark-bearded Italian present who asked
me quite a number of questions regarding poor old dad. I
wonder who he was.”

“One of your father’s Italian friends most probably,” I said,

reassuring her, for I did not wish her to learn that the man
was a police agent from Rome seeking to establish the dead
man’s identity. “But,” I added, suddenly changing the
subject because she had grown despairing, “you have told
me nothing of Ella. Did you go to Porchester Terrace last
night, as you promised?”

“I did, but she has left London with her father. She returned
to Wichenford the day before yesterday.”

“Gone! And where is Gordon-Wright?”

“All I’ve been able to find out is that he is absent from

London. I called myself at his rooms in Half Moon Street,
and his man told me that he was out of town—on the
Continent, he believes, but is not certain.”

“Or he may be with my love,” I remarked bitterly, clenching

my hands in my fierce antagonism. For me nothing lived or
breathed save one life, that of my love; for her alone the
sun shone and set.

The days dragged wearily by, for I was still kept in the
hospital. The shock my system had suffered had been a
terrible one, and according to the doctors it had been little
short of a miracle that my life had been saved.

The funeral of Mr Miller, attended by his sister and three

other friends, had taken place, and Lucie had accompanied
her aunt back to Studland, taking with her all the dead
man’s effects.
She had said nothing about the large sum in Italian bank-
notes that must have been in his possession, and this
somewhat puzzled me. The proceeds of the great theft at
the Villa Verde must be concealed somewhere—but where?

As soon as I was able to travel I went down to Worcester,

and hiring a dogcart drove out six miles along the Tenbury
Road through a picturesque and fertile country glorious in
its autumn gold, when of a sudden the groom raised his
whip, and pointing to the left across the hedgerow to a
church spire on rising ground in the distance said:—

“That’s Wichenford yonder, sir. The Place is a mile and a half

farther on.”

I had never been to Ella’s home, and was wondering what

kind of house it was.

At about two miles along a road to the left we came to fine

lodge-gates that swung open to allow us to pass, and then
driving up a long beech avenue there suddenly came into
view a splendid old Tudor mansion of grey stone half
covered with ivy. It had no doubt gone through some
changes in modern times, but the older parts, including the
Great Hall and the Tapestry Gallery, certainly were of pure
Tudor structure. To me it seemed probable that the original
purpose was to erect a manor house of the E form, so
common in Tudor times; but if that was the intention it was
never carried out, for only one block with the central
projection had been completed, and the house must have
taken its present form about the time of Charles the First,
when two wings had been added in the rear of the then
existing building.

In any case I had no idea that Wichenford Place, the home

of the Worcestershire Murrays for the past three centuries,
was such a magnificent old mansion.

The great oak door was open, therefore, after ringing the
bell, I passed through the porch, entered the hall and
glanced around, finding it most quaint and interesting, and
full of splendid old furniture. Its high flat ceiling was of large
size and excellent proportions, the panelling was of oak,
rich in character and colouring, with beautiful carving along
the top in many places. The fireplace I noticed had fluted
pilasters of an early type and a mantel surmounted by
arches of wood finely carved with caryatid figures
supporting the frieze. The ancient fire-back bore the date
1588, while in the old armorial glass of the long windows
could be seen the rose of the Tudors with the Garter and
the shield of the Murrays emblazoned with various
quarterings. It was a delightful old home, typically English.

Above the panelling hung many time-mellowed old family

portraits, while at the far end a fine old long clock in
marquetrie case ticked solemnly, and the door was guarded
by the figure of a man armed cap-à-pie.

A clean-shaven man-servant in livery came along the hall

towards me, and I inquired for Mr Murray.

“Not at home, sir,” was his prompt answer.

“Miss Ella?”

“What name, sir?”

I gave the man a card, and he disappeared through another

door.

Three minutes later I heard a bright voice calling me:—

“Godfrey! Is it actually you!” And looking up, I saw my well-
beloved standing upon the oak minstrels’ gallery, fresh and
sweet in a white serge gown, and little changed from those
old well-remembered days when we had met and wandered
together beside the sea. Ah! how my heart leapt at sight of
her.

She ran swiftly down the stairs, and next moment I held
both her soft hands in mine and was looking into those
beautiful blue eyes that for years had been ever before me
in my day-dreams. Assuredly no woman on earth was fairer
than she! Love does not come at will; and of goodness it is
not born, nor of gratitude, nor of any right or reason on the
earth.

“Fancy!” she cried. “Fancy your coming here. But why have
you come?” she asked anxiously. “You don’t know in what
peril your presence here places me.”

“Have you seen Lucie?” I asked.

“Not since she went to Italy. Has she returned?”

“Yes. I am here in order to tell you something.”

“Then let’s go into the garden. My father has gone in the

car to Bewdley.” And she led me through the old stone-
paved corridor and across the quiet ancient courtyard and
out into a beautiful rose-garden where the high box-hedges
were clipped into fantastic shapes, and the roses climbed
everywhere upon their arches.

“What a delightful place!” I exclaimed. “I had no idea that

Wichenford was like this.”

“Hadn’t you?” she laughed. Then sighing, she added: “Yes. I

love it just as much as dear old dad does. Let us sit here.”