bly the most
recent. They were "Hotel d'Italie, Rue Caumartin, Paris," and a
baggage number, "517." Not much, perhaps, in the way of information,
but something; and Winter could trust his memory.

He found himself in a well-furnished room, and hoped that Mrs. Garth
might leave him there, even for a few seconds, when he would be free
to examine the apartment without her supervision. But she treated him
as if he might steal the spoons. Remaining in the doorway, she called
loudly:

"Mr. Fenley! The person I told you of is here again. Will you kindly
come? He is in the dining-room."

A door opened, a hurried step sounded on a linoleum floor-covering,
and Hilton Fenley appeared.

"Mr.--Mr. Winter, isn't it?" he said, with a fine air of surprise.

"Yes," said the Superintendent composedly. "You hardly expected to
meet me here, I suppose?"

"Well, Mrs. Garth mentioned your earlier visit, but I am at a loss to
understand----"

"Oh, it is easily explained. We of the Yard take nothing for granted,
Mr. Fenley. I learned by chance that a young lady who lives here rang
you up at Roxton this morning, and knowing that you took the trouble
to conceal the fact, I thought it advisable----"

Mrs. Garth was a woman of discretion. She closed the door on the two
men. Fenley did not wait for Winter to conclude.

"That was foolish of me, I admit," he said, readily enough. "One does
not wish all one's private affairs to be canvassed, even by the
police. The moment Mrs. Garth mentioned your name I saw my error. You
checked the telephone calls to The Towers, I suppose, and thus learned
I had misled you."

"Something of the sort. Miss Garth is a lady not difficult of
recognition."

"She and her mother are very dear friends. It was natural they should
be shocked by the paragraphs in the newspapers and wish to ascertain
the truth."

"Quite so. I'm sorry if my pertinacity has annoyed them, or you."

"I think they will rather be pleased by such proof of your
thoroughness. Certainly I, for my part, do not resent it."

"Very well, sir. Since I am here, I may inquire if you know any one
living at 104, Hendon Road, Battersea Park?"

"Now that you mention the address, I recall it as the residence of the
lady in whom my brother is interested. This morning I had forgotten
it, but you have refreshed my memory."

"You're a tolerably self-possessed person," was the detective's
unspoken thought, for Fenley was a different man now from the n