It was towards the end of the dinner that the first disagreeable incident occurred. His butler leant over him, ostensibly to pour out a glass of wine, and whispered: “That young lady that came this afternoon, sir, has been taken ill.” “Ill!” said Mr. Lewinstein in dismay. “What happened?” “She complained of a bad headache, was seized with tremblings, and had to be taken up to her room,” said the butler in a low voice. “Send into the village for the doctor.” “I did, sir,” said the man, “but the doctor had been called away to London on an important consultation.” Mr. Lewinstein frowned. Then a little gleam of relief came to him. The detective had asked him not to be alarmed at anything that might happen. Possibly this was a ruse for her own purpose. She ought to have told him though, he complained to himself. “Very good, wait till dinner is over,” he said. When that function was finished, and the guests had reached the coffee and cigarette stage before entering the big ballroom or retiring to their cards, Mr. Lewinstein climbed to the third floor to the tiny bedroom which had been allocated by his lady wife as being adequate for a lady detective. He knocked at the door. “Come in,” said a faint voice. The girl was lying on the bed, covered with an eiderdown quilt, and she was shivering. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me even.” “Good Lord!” said Mr. Lewinstein in dismay, “you’re not really ill, are you?” “I’m afraid so; I’m awfully sorry. I don’t know what has happened to me, and I have a feeling that my illness is not wholly accidental. I was feeling well until I had a cup of tea, which was brought to my room, when suddenly I was taken with these shivers. Can you get me a doctor?” “I’ll do my best,” said Mr. Lewinstein, for he had a kindly heart. He went downstairs a somewhat anxious man. If, as the girl seemed to suggest, she had been doped, that presupposed the presence in the house either of Four Square Jane or one of her working partners. He reached the hall to find the butler waiting. “Excuse me, sir,” said the butler, “but rather a fortunate thing has happened. A gentleman who has run short of petrol came up to the house to borrow a supply----” “Well?” said Mr. Lewinstein. “Well, sir, he happens to be a doctor,” said the butler. “I asked him to see you, sir.” “Fine,” said Mr. Lewinstein enthusiastically, “that’s a good idea of yours. Bring him into the library.” The stranded motorist, a tall young man, came in full of apologies. “I say, it’s awfully good of you to let me have this juice,” he said. “The fact is, my silly ass of a man packed me two empty tins.” “Delighted to help you, doctor,” said Mr. Lewinstein genially; “and now perhaps you can help me.” The young man looked at the other suspiciously.