an hesitated. "I wonder if she had a mother?"

"Why do you wonder?"

"Well, sir, the lady who came to see Miss Loach--"

"Mrs. Herne?"

"I heard her name was Mrs. Herne, but she was as like Senora Gredos as
two peas, save that she was older and had gray hair."

"Hum!" said Jennings, pondering. "Did you ever hear Senora Gredos
speak of Mrs. Herne?"

"Never, sir. But Mrs. Pill--the cook of Miss Loach--said that Mrs.
Herne lived at Hampstead. But she was like my old mistress. When I
opened the door to her I thought she was Senora Gredos. But then the
scent may have made me think that."

Jennings looked up sharply. "The scent? What do you mean?"

"Senora Gredos," explained Susan quietly, "used a very nice scent--a
Japanese scent called Hikui. She used no other, and I never met any
lady who did, save Mrs. Herne."

"Oh, so Mrs. Herne used it."

"She did, sir. When I opened the door on that night," Susan shuddered,
"the first thing I knew was the smell of Hikui making the passage like
a hairdresser's shop. I leaned forward to see if the lady was Senora
Gredos, and she turned her face away. But I caught sight of it, and if
she isn't some relative of my last mistress, may I never eat bread
again."

"Did Mrs. Herne seem offended when you examined her face?"

"She gave a kind of start--"

"At the sight of you," said Jennings quickly.

"La, no, sir. She never saw me before."

"I'm not so sure of that," muttered the detective. "Did you also
recognize Mr. Clancy and Mr. Hale as having visited the Soho house?"

"No, sir. I never set eyes on them before."

"But as parlor-maid, you must have opened the door to--"

"Just a moment, sir," said Susan quickly. "I opened the door in the
day when few people came. After eight the page, Gibber, took my place.
And I hardly ever went upstairs, as Senora Gredos told me to keep
below. One evening I did come up and saw--" here her eyes rested on
Cuthbert with a look which made him turn crimson. "I wish I had never
come up on that night."

"See here, my girl," said Mallow irritably, "do you mean to say--"

"Hold on, Mallow," interposed Jennings, "let me ask a question." He
turned to Susan, now weeping again with downcast eyes. "Mr. Mallow's
face made an impression on you?"

"Yes, sir. But then I knew every line of it before."

"How was that?"

Susan looked up surprised. "The photograph in Senora Gredos'
dressing-room. I often looked at it, and when