I glanced along the corridor, and there was the physician approaching briskly. “Good morning, Mr. Knox,” he said. “Good morning, doctor. I hear that your patient is much improved?” “Wonderfully so,” he answered. “She has enough courage for ten men. She wishes to see you, Mr. Knox, and to hear your account of the tragedy.” “Do you think it would be wise?” “I think it would be best.” “Do you hold any hope of her permanently recovering the use of her limbs?” Dr. Rolleston shook his head doubtfully. “It may have only been temporary,” he replied. “These obscure nervous affections are very fickle. It is unsafe to make predictions. But mentally, at least, she is quite restored from the effects of last night’s shock. You need apprehend no hysteria or anything of that nature, Mr. Knox.” “Oh, I see,” exclaimed a loud voice behind us. We all three turned, and there was Inspector Aylesbury crossing the hall in our direction. “Good morning, Dr. Rolleston,” he said, deliberately ignoring my presence. “I hear that your patient is quite well again this morning?” “She is much improved,” returned the physician, dryly. “Then I can get her testimony, which is most important to my case?” “She is somewhat better. If she cares to see you I do not forbid the interview.” “Oh, that’s good of you, doctor.” He bowed to Miss Beverley. “Perhaps, Miss, you would ask Madame de Stämer to see me for a few minutes.” Val Beverley looked at me appealingly then shrugged her shoulders, turned aside, and walked in the direction of Madame de Stämer’s door. “Well,” said Dr. Rolleston, in his brisk way, shaking me by the hand, “I must be getting along. Good morning, Mr. Knox. Good morning, Inspector Aylesbury.” He walked rapidly out to his waiting car. The presence of Inspector Aylesbury exercised upon Dr. Rolleston a similar effect to that which a red rag has upon a bull. As he took his departure, the Inspector drew out his pocket-book, and, humming gently to himself, began to consult certain entries therein, with a portentous air of reflection which would have been funny if it had not been so irritating. Thus we stood when Val Beverley returned, and: “Madame de Stämer will see you, Inspector Aylesbury,” she said, “but wishes Mr. Knox to be present at the interview.” “Oh,” said the Inspector, lowering his chin, “I see. Oh, very well.” CHAPTER XXVI IN MADAME’S ROOM