"My husband was the type of brute who loves to torture women in some form or other," she said. "There are thousands of such men, especially in England, I think, or why are societies so necessary to protect women, to help them, to relieve them? Such devils are better out of the world, and I had the power to be something more than a philanthropist. I had the knowledge and the money to be an active agent. I came to England. I hate Englishmen because of my husband, and I have made a beginning. It was easy among my charitable concerns to hear of men who were brutes, and who would not be missed. In such a man I took an interest, was kind to him, brought him here to Lantern House to befriend him. He has sat in that chair as you are sitting, he has worn this cap as you wear it. How to get rid of him afterward? Underneath us is a basement where I have a car ready, a car I drive myself, and of the existence of which nobody knows. An old house was an advantage to me, you see. It is easy to put goggles and overalls on a dead man. To contrive an iron frame which should keep him in a sitting position was not difficult, and you are exactly over a trap through which you can be lowered into the car. Then a drive in the night, when I am dressed like a man, and have a companion with me who sits upright beside me, then an unfrequented piece of country, and I come home again--alone. Twice cyclists have been found--one of them a foreigner--their broken machines beside them. It was easy to buy a fifth rate motor machine, smash it, and carry it in the car. The cycle confused investigation, and I was secure from detection. Then a chauffeur was found. I did not take so much trouble with him, and I wondered how his death would be explained." She laughed again. "You may say you are not one of these brutes--perhaps not. But do you remember the day Lord Delmouth married Lady Evelyn Malling? Such a wealth of wedding presents required careful watching, and a guest was pointed out to me as Murray Wigan, the great detective. I never forget a face, and I never underrate an enemy. I heard that Murray Wigan was inquiring into the mysterious death of the chauffeur. I knew you the moment you came into the house. Who the girl is, I do not care. Your accomplice has nothing to fear--I do not war against women. I sent her to London. When she returns she will learn that you have been and gone. You will be found, Murray Wigan, sixty or seventy miles from London, and since death by this method draws the features strangely, it is doubtful if you will be identified. You were clever to get upon my track, but you pay the penalty."