admitted Harborne; "we were bumping too much. But there's a
political affair on to-night in Downing Street. I should guess she's
going to be there."

"Why? Who was the fair girl?"

"Lady Mary Evershed," answered Harborne. "It's her father's 'do'
to-night. We want to keep an eye on Miss Oppner, after the Astoria Hotel
business. Wish we had a list of guests."

"If Severac Bablon is down," replied Sheffield; grimly, "I don't think
she'll have the pleasure of seeing him this evening. But where on earth
is she off to now?"

"Give it up," said Harborne, philosophically.

"Oh, she of the golden hair and the white _odontoglossum_," sighed the
little Frenchman, rolling up his eyes. "What a perfection!"

They became silent as the cab rapidly bore them across Vauxhall Bridge
and through south-west to south-east London, finally to Dulwich Village,
that tiny and dwindling oasis in the stucco desert of Suburbia.

Talking to an officer on point duty at a corner, distinguished by the
presence of a pillar-box, was P.C. Dawson in mufti. He and the other
constable saluted as the three detectives left the cab and joined them.

"Been here long, Dawson?" asked Sheffield.

"No, sir. Just arrived."

"You and I will walk along on the far side from this Laurel Cottage,"
arranged the inspector, "and M. Duquesne might like a glass of wine,
Harborne, until I've looked over the ground. Then we can distribute
ourselves. We've got a full quarter of an hour."

It was arranged so, and Sheffield, guided by Dawson, proceeded to the
end of the Village, turned to the left, past the College buildings, and
found himself in a long, newly-cut road, with only a few unfinished
houses. Towards the farther end a gloomy little cottage frowned upon the
road. It looked deserted and lonely in its isolation amid marshy fields.
In the background, upon a slight acclivity, a larger building might
dimly be discerned. A clump of dismal poplars overhung the cottage on
the west.

"It's been a gate lodge at some time, sir," explained Dawson. "You can
see the old carriage sweep on the right. But the big house is to be
pulled down, and they've let the lodge, temporarily, as a separate
residence. There's no upstairs, only one door and very few windows. We
can absolutely surround it!"

"H'm! Unpleasant looking place," muttered Sheffield, as the two walked
by on the opposite side. "No lights. When we've passed this next tree,
slip along and tuck yourself away under t