"Well, now, that depends. I think I am quite right in collaring him unless he explains to my satisfaction, which is hardly likely." "The charge is one of murder, isn't it?" "Yes." "Who did he kill?" "Well, up to now it hasn't come out, for the sake of the family. But if Corbett is here you will know soon enough." "It's a funny way to go to work." "Commissioner's orders, my boy. I am not to reveal the la-- the name until it cannot be helped. However, as I have said so much, I don't mind telling you it's a woman, and a big one too." "Big! Fat, do you mean?" "No. A woman of high position." "Phew! A regular society scandal, I suppose?" "That's about the size of it." On arrival at Sloane Square they quickly ascended to No. 12 Raleigh Mansions. A stout, elderly woman answered their knock, and a glance at her face revealed the map of Ireland, although her name was Saxon Robinson. "Mr. Corbett in?" inquired White. "Faix, he's not." "Then where is he?" "I don't know, misther, an' if I did I wouldn't be afther telling when axed in an oncivil manner." "All right, Mrs. ----" "Robinson's my name, if that's anny use to ye." "Very well, Mrs. Robinson. We wish to have a word with Mr. Corbett, and we will be much obliged if you can tell us when he is likely to return, if he is in London." "Arrah, it's meself is mixed intirely about him. Sure _this_ Mr. Corbett is in London right enough, and is comin' in to dinner in half-an-hour, so by yer lave I'll jist go on wid me wurruk." "May we come in and wait for him?" Mrs. Robinson surveyed them suspiciously, but seemingly decided in their favor. "Stip in here, gintlemen both," she said, and conducted them to the sitting-room. A fire now burned brightly in the grate wherein Bruce had made his pregnant discovery. The damaged bracket still stared at White, so to speak, but he saw it not. Mrs. Robinson bustled away to the kitchen, and the two officers sat silently waiting developments. Suddenly a thought occurred to White, and he went into the passage. "Mrs. Robinson," he said, "what did you mean by referring to _this_ Mr. Corbett?" A quick step came bounding up the stairs, and a key rattled in the lock. "You'd betther ax him yerself," responded the housekeeper pithily, and the door opened to admit a handsome, well-knit man, tall and straight, with the clearly cut features of the true Westerner, and the easy carriage of one accustomed to the freedom of the prairie. He was quietly dressed. The only sign that he was not a Londoner was given by his wide-awake felt hat, the last token of environment relinquished by a wandering citizen from the region of the Rockies. In the semi-darkness of the interior he could but dimly discern the form of the detective behind the ready-tongued housekeeper. "There's two gintlemen to see ye, Misther Corbett," said she.