“This is a most perplexing thing,” Stothert said, as he pushed a chair towards the ‘visitor.’ “I wish you would tell me, first of all, how you got in, Lord Froissart.” “Certainly. I came to see you this afternoon about six o’clock, and when I arrived at the house I found the door open--some workmen were attending to your electric light in the hall. I walked in, meaning to come up to your office, but I went a floor too high, took a wrong turning off the landing, and found myself in a passage along which I wandered until I came to a door which I opened and passed through, still trying to find your office. It is a heavy mahogany door, and as I shut it behind me the handle came off in my hand. While trying to refit the handle I accidentally pushed the metal stem through the socket in the door, and at once I realized I was a prisoner, for the passage led into a room from which there is no other outlet.” He paused a moment, and then continued: “When I found it impossible to open the door by any means, I hammered on it with my stick, and shouted. In fact I made all the noise I could, but apparently you didn’t hear me.” “Certainly we did not,” Stothert answered. “That room is a long way off, and there are several doors between it and the landing. How did you get out eventually?” Lord Froissart held out his walking stick. “With the help of this,” he said. “In desperation I finally set to work to grind the ferrule square by rubbing it on the hearthstone in that room--I fear I have disfigured the stone, but that, of course, I will make good. It was a long job, I can assure you--and it ruined my stick. Here, take your torch,” he added with a laugh, as he handed it to him. Stothert and his companion looked considerably relieved. “A most unfortunate mishap,” the former remarked, with a quick glance at the woman. “And you gave us quite a fright,” he added. “We thought burglars had broken in.” “Well, I thought so too, for some minutes,” Froissart said lightly. “Do you always work as late as this, if it is not an impertinent question?” He looked about the room. “I see you have been hard at it.” “No, we rarely work late, but to-night we had on hand rather an urgent matter. And may I ask, m’lord, what you wished to see me about when you came here this afternoon? Oh, excuse me, you surely must be hungry after your long imprisonment--I feel that indirectly I am to blame for the mishap. Camille,” he turned to the woman, “go and see if you can find something for Lord Froissart to eat. I am afraid m’lord there is not much in the house.” “Please don’t trouble about food on my account,” Froissart urged. “I really am not hungry, and the blunder was my fault. And now, with regard to the matter I wanted to see you about. You remember, of course, the sad affair of my poor daughter’s death?” “Quite well. The papers were full of it, which must have caused you pain.”