at would put sponges into her head. But, of course,
she had to say something. What was she like to look at?"

"She had a dark blue dress," said Frank, "and was tallish."

"Fuzzy fair hair?" said Lord Torrington.

"I don't remember her hair."

"Slim?"

"I'd call Miss Rutherford fat," said Frank. "At least, she's decidedly
stout."

"Not her," said Lord Torrington. "Nobody could call Isabel fat. That
police sergeant of yours is a fool, Lentaigne. I always said he was.
If Isabel is in this neighbourhood at all she's living in some country
inn."

"The sergeant said he'd make inquiries about the lady he mentioned,"
said Sir Lucius. "We shall hear more about her tomorrow."

"She had a Primus stove with her," said Frank.

"That's no help," said Lord Torrington. "Anybody might have a Primus
stove."

"She said she'd borrowed it from Professor Wilder," said Frank.

"Who the devil is Professor Wilder?"

"He's doing the rotifers," said Frank. "At least Miss Rutherford said he
was. I don't know who he is."

"That's not Isabel," said Lord Torrington. "She wouldn't have the
intelligence to invent a professor who collected rotifers. I don't
suppose she ever heard of rotifers. I never did. What are they?"

"Insects, I fancy," said Sir Lucius. "I daresay Priscilla would know.
Shall I send for her?"

"No," said Lord Torrington. "I don't care what rotifers are. Let's
finish our cigars outside, Lentaigne. It's infernally hot."

Frank had finished his cigarette. He had no wish to spend any time
beyond what was absolutely necessary in Lord Torrington's company. He
felt sure that Lord Torrington would insist on walking briskly up and
down when he got outside. Frank could not walk briskly, even with
the aid of two sticks. He made up his mind to hobble off in search
of Priscilla. He found her, after some painful journeyings, in a most
unlikely place. She was sitting in the long gallery with Lady Torrington
and Miss Lentaigne. The two ladies reclined in easy chairs in front
of an open window. There were several partially smoked cigarettes in
a china saucer on the floor beside Miss Lentaigne. Lady Torrington was
fanning herself with a slow motion which reminded Frank of the way in
which a tiger, caged in a zoological garden, switches its tail after
being fed. Priscilla sat in the background under a lamp. She had chosen
a straight-backed chair which stood opposite a writing table. She sat
bolt upright in it with her hands folded