afternoon. I see that you're
reading the story of Lord Loudwater's murder in the _Planet_. It occurred
to me that you might very likely be able to tell me who the lady who
visited Lord Loudwater on the night of his murder was. At any rate, you
can probably make a guess at who she was."

Hutchings shook his head and said gloomily: "No, sir, I can't. I
don't know who it was and I can't guess. I wish I could. I'd tell you
like a shot."

"That's odd," said Mr. Flexen, again disappointed. "I should have thought
it impossible for your master to have been on intimate terms with a lady
without your coming to hear of it. You've always been his butler."

"Yes, sir. But this is the kind of thing as a valet gets to know about
more than a butler--letters left about, or in pockets, you know, sir. But
his lordship never could keep a valet long enough for him to learn
anything. He was worse with valets than with any one."

"I see," said Mr. Flexen in a vexed tone. "But still, I should have
thought you'd have heard something from some one, even if the matter had
not come under your own eyes. Gossip moves pretty widely about the
countryside."

"Oh, this didn't happen in the country, sir--not in this part of the
country, anyhow. It must have been a London woman," said Hutchings with
conviction. "If she'd lived about here, I must have heard about it."

"It was a lady, you must know. The papers do not bring that fact out. My
informant is quite sure that it was a lady," said Mr. Flexen.

"That's no 'elp, sir," said Hutchings despondently. "She must have come
down by train and gone away by train."

"She would have probably been noticed at the station. But she wasn't.
Besides, she could not have walked back to the station in time to catch
the last train. I'm sure of it."

"Then she must have come in a car, sir."

"That is always possible," said Mr. Flexen.

There was a pause.

Then Hutchings burst out: "You may depend on it that she did it, sir.
There isn't a shadow of a doubt. You get her and you'll get the
murderess."

He spoke with the feverish, unbalanced vehemence of a man whose nerves
are on edge.

"You think so, do you?" said Mr. Flexen.

"I'm sure of it--dead certain," cried Hutchings.

"It's a long way from visiting a gentleman late at night and quarrelling
with him to murdering him," said Mr. Flexen.

"And she went it. You mark my words, sir. She went it. I don't say that
she came to do it. But she saw that kni