“And you’re bringing all these people down here to stop the night, and you’re talking about them being loaded up with jewellery! You’ve got a nerve, Joe.” Mr. Lewinstein chuckled. “I’ve got a detective, too,” he said. “I’ve asked Ross, who has the biggest private detective agency in London, to send me his best woman.” “Goodness gracious,” said the dismayed Mrs. Lewinstein, “you’re not having a woman here?” “Yes, I am. She’s a lady, apparently one of the best girls Ross has got. He told me that in cases like this it’s much less noticeable to have a lady detective among the guests than a man. I told her to be here at seven.” Undoubtedly the Lewinstein’s house-party was the most impressive affair that the county had seen. His guests were to arrive by a special train from London and were to be met at the station by a small fleet of motor cars, which he had pressed to his service from all available sources. His own car was waiting at the door ready to take him to the station to meet his “special” when a servant brought him a card. “Miss Caroline Smith,” he read. On the corner was the name of the Ross Detective Agency. “Tell the young lady I’ll see her in the library.” He found her waiting for him. A personable, pretty girl, with remarkably shrewd and clever eyes that beamed behind rimless glasses and a veil, she met him with an elusive smile that came and went like sunshine on a wintry day. “So you’re a lady detective, eh?” said Lewinstein with ponderous good humour; “you look young.” “Why, yes,” said the girl, “even way home, where youth isn’t any handicap, I’m looked upon as being a trifle under the limit.” “Oh, you’re from America, are you?” said Mr. Lewinstein interested. The girl nodded. “This is my first work in England, and naturally I am rather nervous.” She had a pleasant voice, a soft drawl, which suggested to Mr. Lewinstein, who had spent some years on the other side, that she came from one of the Southern States. “Well, I suppose you pretty well know your duties in the game to suppress this Four Square woman.” She nodded. “That may be a pretty tough proposition. You’ll give me leave to go where I like, and do practically what I like, won’t you? That is essential.” “Certainly,” said Mr. Lewinstein; “you will dine with us as our guest?” “No, that doesn’t work,” she replied. “The time I ought to be looking round and taking notice, my attention is wholly absorbed by the man who is taking me down to dinner and wants my views on prohibition. “So, if you please, I’d like the whole run of your house. I can be your young cousin, Miranda, from the high mountains of New Jersey. What about your servants?” “I can trust them with my life,” said Mr. Lewinstein. She looked at him with a half-twinkle in her eyes. “Can you tell me anything about this she-Raffles?” she asked.