ly, "that I have no idea."

"Do you remember almost my first question to you?" she asked.

"It was about the murder. You seemed interested in the fact that
my office was within a few yards of the passage where it occurred."

"Quite right," she admitted. "I see that your memory is very good.
There, then, Mr. Laverick, you have the secret of my desire to meet
you."

Laverick drank his wine slowly. The woman knew! Impossible! Her
eyes were watching his face, but he held himself bravely. What
could she know? How could she guess?

"Frankly," he said, "I do not understand. Your interest in me
arises from the fact that my offices are near the scene of that
murder. Well, to begin with, what concern have you in that?"

"The murdered man," she declared thoughtfully, "was an acquaintance
of mine."

"An acquaintance of yours!" Laverick exclaimed. "Why, he has not
been identified. No one knows who he was."

She raised her eyebrows very slightly.

"Mr. Laverick," she murmured, "the newspapers do not tell you
everything. I repeat that the murdered man was an acquaintance of
mine. Only three days ago I traveled part of the way from Vienna
with him."

Laverick was intensely interested.

"You could, perhaps, throw some light, then, upon his death?"

"Perhaps I could," she answered. "I can tell you one thing, at any
rate, Mr. Laverick, if it is news to you. At the time when he was
murdered, he was carrying a very large sum of money with him. This
is a fact which has not been spoken of in the Press."

Once again Laverick was thankful for those nerves of his. He sat
quite still. His face exhibited nothing more than the blank
amazement which he certainly felt.

"This is marvelous," he said. "Have you told the police?"

"I have not," she answered. "I wish, if I can, to avoid telling
the police."

"But the money? To whom did it belong?"

"Not to the murdered man."

"To any one whom you know of?" he inquired.

"I wonder," she said, after a moment of hesitation, "whether I am
telling you too much."

"You are telling me a good deal," he admitted frankly.

"I wonder how far," she asked, "you will be inclined to reciprocate?"

"I reciprocate!" he exclaimed. "But what can I do? What do I know
of these things?"

She stretched out her hand lazily, and drew towards her a wonderful
gold purse set with emeralds. Carefully opening it, she drew from
the interior a small flat pocketbook, also of gold, w