CHAPTER XIV

ANOTHER VICTIM The garden in front of the Hampton cottage was at its best on a bright summer afternoon. As Mrs. Hampton stood in the midst of the flowers, her eyes shone with pride. She was very much at home here, and loved each flower, from the delicate, fragrant mignonette to the gaily-coloured, boisterous tiger-lily. The fence surrounding the garden was lost in a wealth of vines, chief among which was the morning-glory, whose vase-shaped blossoms were drooping sleepily beneath the sun’s hot glare. Close to th…