“It did--great pain. It seems to me that the newspapers have no consideration for people’s feelings--they have no delicacy, no mercy.” “I fully agree with you.” “Well now, in spite of the jury’s verdict that my daughter died of shock, it must have been patent to you, and I fear also to others, that the poor child took her life. Why she should have done so has puzzled me ever since, for I can think no reason which might have prompted her to do it. She had, however, a friend, I may say a great friend, of whom it now appears that nobody knows anything except that she is apparently a very well-to-do woman. Strange rumors concerning her have been repeated to me of late, and putting two and two together, it seems to me possible that this friend of hers might, if she wished to, be able to solve the mystery. Now, why won’t she? Can you tell me that?” “Who is the woman, m’lord?” Stothert asked. “Anything you tell us will, of course, be considered private and confidential.” “Yes, please consider this private. The woman you will probably know. Her name is Mervyn-Robertson.” Stothert and his companion exchanged a meaning glance. “Ah, I see you do know her,” Lord Froissart said quickly. “Indeed we do, m’lord, that is to say, by name. We know a lot about her.” “And is what you know favorable, or is it--er--the other thing?” “Certainly ‘the other thing.’ More than that we must not say. And so you wish us to find out who and what she is, where she comes from, and so forth?” “If you can.” “That will not be difficult. Already we can tell you that her birthplace was Australia; also that her parents were sheep farmers in Queensland.” “Oh! That sounds quite respectable.” “It sounds respectable, but....” “Yes?” “Things, you know, are not always what they sound. Are you likely, m’lord, to attend the big ball to be given at the Albert Hall on the twenty-ninth of this month?” “I had not heard of it. Who is giving the ball?” “Mr. Stapleton and Mr. La Planta, though I believe they don’t themselves know who will act as hostess. They are friends of Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson, as you probably know.” “Yes, I have heard of them, though I don’t know them personally. I recollect we happened to speak of them when I came here to consult you about my poor daughter’s death. I hoped then that your wide knowledge of what is happening privately among well-known people soon might succeed in throwing light on the cause of that terrible tragedy, but unfortunately you were not able to do so. And now tell me--why do you wish to know if I am likely to attend this ball? Surely you must know that I never go out now?” “It might be to your advantage, m’lord, to do so on this occasion, though why it might be I must not tell you yet. More, m’lord. I would, if I may, urge you to attend it.” “Of course if you think it will serve some good purpose, Stothert.”