ad an unexpected reply.

"_C'etait moi, messieurs, qui viens de vous telephoner. Moi je suis
Lady Clifford._"

The voice, metallic and defiant, rang out from the door leading into
the right-hand bedroom. The officer stared in surprise, while Roger
wheeled with a brusque movement of incredulity to behold Therese facing
them.

"_You_ telephoned them?" he repeated, hardly able to believe his ears.

"Certainly. I simply reported the fact to police headquarters that I
am being kept a prisoner in my bedroom."

She eyed him squarely, the yellow flecks in her grey irises plainly
apparent. For two seconds she flashed him a challenge, while he
regarded her steadily in complete silence. Then with a sudden softer
air and a little gesture of appeal, she turned to the officer in charge
and spoke rapidly in French.

"This is the gentleman, monsieur, my stepson, Mr. Roger Clifford."

"Your stepson, madame?" reiterated the man in a shocked tone.

"Yes, monsieur, the son of my late husband, Sir Charles Clifford, who
has been dead less than a week."

There was a slight tremor in her voice, and, Roger could almost have
sworn, tears in her eyes. The officers averted their eyes decorously,
while Roger gazed at her with aloof impersonality, simply curious. He
watched her score her point and wondered just how far she intended to
pursue the advantage. What was her plan? Was she, after all,
technically innocent, able to prove the fact? Or was this a bold
stratagem, to throw dust in his eyes? He was totally unable to choose
between the two diametrically opposed theories.

The officer in charge shot a black glance at him and made ready to
write further particulars.

"Pray proceed, madame. Will you kindly inform me as to the exact
nature of this gentleman's conduct towards yourself."

"Monsieur, it is simply what I told you on the telephone. My stepson,
who is a guest in my house, had the audacity to force me, under
threats, to enter my room, after which he turned the key on me."

The man looked nonplussed, but intensely respectful.

"But, madame, permit me to suggest that you do not appear to be a
prisoner."

"I will explain, monsieur. He did not lock that door there, it was not
necessary, since he has never left the room. He has, in, fact, been on
guard here. But the outer door, leading to the hall, is fastened, as
you will see if you care to look."

At a sign from the superior officer one of the sergents-de-vi