ering vehicle stopped before the gate of number
67; and the lady at number 68 seized an evidently rare opportunity to
come out and polish her letter-box.

She was rewarded by an unobstructed view of the smartest woman in London
(thus spake society paragraphers) and of the most expensive set of
furs in Europe, also of a perfectly gowned slim figure. Of Mollie's
disdainful face, with its slightly uptilted nose, she had no more than a
glimpse.

A neat maid, evidently Scotch, admitted the dazzling visitor to number
67; and Spenser Road waited and wondered. It was something to do with
the Bond Street murder! Small girls appeared from doorways suddenly
opened and darted off to advise less-watchful neighbors.

Kerry, who had been at work until close upon dawn in the mysterious
underworld of Soho was sleeping, but Mrs. Kerry received Mollie in a
formal little drawing-room, which, unlike the cosy, homely dining-room,
possessed that frigid atmosphere which belongs to uninhabited
apartments. In a rather handsome cabinet were a number of trophies
associated with the detective's successful cases. The cabinet itself
was a present from a Regent Street firm for whom Kerry had recovered
valuable property.

Mary Kerry, dressed in a plain blouse and skirt, exhibited no trace of
nervousness in the presence of her aristocratic and fashionable caller.
Indeed, Mollie afterwards declared that "she was quite a ladylike
person. But rather tin tabernacley, my dear."

"Did ye wish to see Chief Inspector Kerry parteecularly?" asked Mary,
watching her visitor with calm, observant eyes.

"Oh, most particularly!" cried Mollie, in a flutter of excitement. "Of
course I don't know what you must think of me for calling at such a
preposterous hour, but there are some things that simply can't wait."

"Aye," murmured Mrs. Kerry. "'Twill be yon Bond Street affair?"

"Oh, yes, it is, Mrs. Kerry. Doesn't the very name of Bond Street turn
your blood cold? I am simply shivering with fear!"

"As the wife of a Chief Inspector I am maybe more used to tragedies than
yoursel', madam. But it surely is a sair grim business. My husband
is resting now. He was hard at work a' the night. Nae doubt ye'll be
wishin' tee see him privately?"

"Oh, if you please. I am so sorry to disturb him. I can imagine that he
must be literally exhausted after spending a whole night among dreadful
people."

Mary Kerry stood up.

"If ye'll excuse me for a moment I'll awaken him