rendered this brief conversation somewhat artificial. And no sooner
had Miss Ingate got away--by the window, for the sake of dispatch--than a
bell made itself heard, and Aguilar came back to the drawing-room in the
role of butler.

"Inspector Keeble and a gentleman to see you, madam."

"Bring them in," said Audrey.

Aguilar's secret glance at Inspector Keeble as he brought in the visitors
showed that his lifelong and harmless enemy had very little to hope from
his goodwill.

"Wait a moment, you!" called the detective as Aguilar, like a perfect
butler, was vanishing. "Good afternoon, ladies. Excuse me, I wish to
question this man." He indicated Aguilar with a gesture of apologising for
Aguilar.

Inspector Keeble, an overgrown mass of rectitude and kindliness, greeted
Audrey with that constraint which always afflicted him when he was beneath
any roof more splendid than that of his own police-station.

"Now, Aguilar," said the detective, "it's you that'll be telling me. Ye've
got a woman concealed in the house. Where is she?"

He knew, then, this ferreting and divinatory Irishman! Of course Miss
Ingate must have committed some indiscretion, or was it that Aguilar was
less astute than he gave the impression of being? Audrey considered that
all was lost, and she was aware of a most unpleasant feeling of
helplessness and inefficiency. Then she seemed to receive inspiration and
optimism from somewhere. She knew not exactly from where, but perhaps it
was from the shy stiffness of the demeanour of her old acquaintance,
Inspector Keeble. Moreover, the Irishman's twinkling eyes were a challenge
to her.

"Oh! Aguilar!" she exclaimed. "I'm very sorry to hear this. I knew women
were always your danger, but I never dreamt you would start carrying on in
my absence."

Aguilar fronted her, and their eyes met. Audrey gazed at him steadily.
There was no smile in Audrey's eyes, but there was a smile glimmering
mysteriously behind them, and after a couple of seconds this phenomenon
aroused a similar phenomenon behind the eyes of Aguilar. Audrey had the
terrible and god-like sensation of lifting a hired servant to equality with
herself. She imagined that she would never again be able to treat him as
Aguilar, and she even feared that she would soon begin to cease to hate
him. At the same time she observed slight signs of incertitude in the
demeanour of the detective.

Aguilar replied coldly, not to Audrey, but to the police:

"I