On the following afternoon, in response to a telegram I had sent to Beryl, she accompanied me to Highgate to face La Gioia. Now that I had such complete evidence of her attempts to poison, I did not fear her, but was determined to elucidate the mystery. Beryl accompanied me rather reluctantly, declaring that, with such power as the woman held, our lives were not safe; but I resolved to take her by surprise, and to risk all. After leaving Hoefer I had sought an interview with the detective Bullen, and he, by appointment, was in the vicinity of the house in question, accompanied by a couple of plain-clothes subordinates. We stopped our cab in Hampstead Lane, and descending, found that the Bishop's-wood Road was a semicircular thoroughfare of substantial detached houses, the garden of each abutting upon a cricket-ground in the centre, and each with its usual greenhouse where geraniums were potted and stored in winter. On entering the quiet, highly-respectable crescent, we were not long in discovering a house with the name "Fairmead" inscribed in gilt letters upon the gate, while a little further along my eyes caught sight of two scavengers diligently sweeping the road, and, not far away, Bullen himself was walking with his back turned towards me. On our summons being responded to I inquired for Mrs Turton, and we were shown into the drawing-room--a rather severely furnished apartment which ran through into the greenhouse wherein stood the rare plant. Hoefer had described it minutely, and while we waited, we both peered into the greenhouse and examined it. The plant standing in the full sunlight was about two feet high, with broad, spreading leaves of a rich, dark green, and grew in an ordinary flower-pot. Half-hidden by the leaves, just as Hoefer had said, we saw some small green pods, long and narrow--the pods of the fatal vayana. Ere we had time to exchange words the door of the room opened, and there stood before us the tall, dark-robed figure of "La Gioia." Her hard face, pale and expectant, showed in the full light to be that of a woman of perhaps forty, with dark hair, keen, swift eyes, thin cheeks, and bony features--a countenance not exactly ugly, but rather that of a woman whose beauty had prematurely faded owing to the heavy cares upon her. I was the first to address her, saying, "I think, madam, you are sufficiently well acquainted with both of us not to need any formal introduction." Her brow contracted and her lips stood apart. Then, without hesitation, I told her my name and that of my companion, while the light died from her careworn face and she stood motionless as one petrified. "We have come here, to you, to seek the truth of the conspiracy against us--the plot in which you yourself have taken part. We demand to know the reason of the secret attempts you have made upon the lives of both of us." "I don't understand you," she answered with hauteur.