There was no mistaking the gravity of his manner. Miss Buckley was a strong-minded woman and capable of holding her own in an equal encounter. But she recognized that this calm, strong man was master of the situation. “Come in, then,” she said, in a tone the reverse of gracious. “I will see if she is well enough to permit your visit. I must ask you to wait in the hall, I have no spare apartment to which to show you.” Lane was not a man much given to unprofitable moralizing, but as he stood in the small hall, he could not help reflecting on the awful havoc which a few hours had wrought in the fortunes of this wretched woman. From the splendid house in Deanery Street with its luxurious apartments, its retinue of trained servants, to this middle-class flat in which there was not even an apartment to which to show a visitor! What a descent! Truly the way of the transgressor is hard! In a few minutes, Miss Buckley reappeared and announced that Mrs. Morrice would see him. She led him into the comfortably furnished room in which Sellars had interviewed her. The detective was favourably impressed by the air of decent well-being about the place: there was no evidence of straitened means. Still, it was a terrible come-down for the wife of a millionaire. Mrs. Morrice was seated in an easy-chair, the marks of acute suffering plainly written on her ravaged features. She nodded slightly to him, and as she did so, the music-hall artist withdrew, closing the door after her. “Your business with me, Mr. Lane?” she said in a very low voice. “Miss Buckley told you the truth when she said I was not in a fit condition to receive visitors. But I understand you have important reasons for desiring an interview.” Lane wasted no time in preamble. Truth to tell, he lacked the wide charity of Rosabelle, and had no compassion for the woman who was ready to sacrifice Richard Croxton without compunction, also her niece’s happiness. “As my card will have informed you, I am a private inquiry agent. It is through me that these discoveries have been made; the systematic sale of your valuable jewels to supply young Brookes with money for his extravagant needs; the fraud you and Sir George Clayton-Brookes have practised in passing him off as the nephew of both. Since you left the house yesterday, serious as these things are, we have discovered something more serious still.” At these ominous words he saw a shudder shake her body, but she uttered no word.