reeking
August dusk, reflecting that the mystery in which I was involved was,
after a fashion, standing still. In front of our house I noticed a taxi
waiting. I thought nothing of it as I entered the murky hallway and
climbed the familiar stairs.

My door stood open. It was dark in my study, save for the reflection of
the lights of London outside. As I crossed the threshold there came to
my nostrils the faint sweet perfume of lilacs. There are no lilacs in
our garden, and if there were it is not the season. No, this perfume had
been brought there by a woman--a woman who sat at my desk and raised her
head as I entered.

"You will pardon this intrusion," she said in the correct careful
English of one who has learned the speech from a book. "I have come for
a brief word with you--then I shall go."

I could think of nothing to say. I stood gaping like a schoolboy.

"My word," the woman went on, "is in the nature of advice. We do not
always like those who give us advice. None the less, I trust that you
will listen."

I found my tongue then.

"I am listening," I said stupidly. "But first--a light--" And I moved
toward the matches on the mantelpiece.

Quickly the woman rose and faced me. I saw then that she wore a
veil--not a heavy veil, but a fluffy, attractive thing that was yet
sufficient to screen her features from me.

"I beg of you," she cried, "no light!" And as I paused, undecided, she
added, in a tone which suggested lips that pout: "It is such a little
thing to ask--surely you will not refuse."

I suppose I should have insisted. But her voice was charming, her manner
perfect, and that odor of lilacs reminiscent of a garden I knew long
ago, at home.

"Very well," said I.

"Oh--I am grateful to you," she answered. Her tone changed. "I
understand that, shortly after seven o'clock last Thursday evening, you
heard in the room above you the sounds of a struggle. Such has been your
testimony to the police?"

"It has," said I.

"Are you quite certain as to the hour?" I felt that she was smiling at
me. "Might it not have been later--or earlier?"

"I am sure it was just after seven," I replied. "I'll tell you why: I
had just returned from dinner and while I was unlocking the door Big Ben
on the House of Parliament struck--"

She raised her hand.

"No matter," she said, and there was a touch of iron in her voice.
"You are no longer sure of that. Thinking it over, you have come to the
conclusion that it ma