The address was Mrs. Gill, 75 Horsewell Street, Edgware Road, and thither before many minutes had passed Inspector French was wending his way. The registry office was a small concern, consisting of only two rooms in a private house in a quiet street running out of Edgware Road. In the outer were two young women of the servant class, and these eyed French curiously, evidently seeing in him a prospective employer. Mrs. Gill was engaged with a third girl, but a few seconds after French’s arrival she took her departure and he was called into the private room. The lady was not at first inclined to be communicative. But when French revealed his profession and threatened her with the powers and majesty of the law, she became profusely apologetic and anxious to help. She looked up her books and informed him that the girl was lodging at No. 31 Norfolk Terrace, Mistletoe Road. As it was close by, French walked to the place. Here again his luck held in a way that he began to consider almost uncanny. A tall, coarsely good-looking blonde opened the door and announced in answer to his inquiry that she herself was Miss Scott. Soon he was sitting opposite to her in a tiny parlour, while she stared at him with something approaching insolence out of her rather bold eyes. French, sizing her up rapidly, was courteous but firm. He began by ostentatiously laying his notebook on the table, opening it at a fresh page, and after saying, “Miss _Susan_ Scott, isn’t it?” wrote the name at the head of the sheet. “Now, Miss Scott,” he announced briskly, “I am Inspector French from Scotland Yard, and I am investigating a case of murder and robbery.” He paused, and seeing the girl was duly impressed, continued, “It happens that your recent mistress, Mrs. Vane, is wanted to give evidence in the case, and I have come to you for some information about where to find her.” The girl made an exclamation of surprise, and a look, partly of fear and partly of thrilled delight, appeared in her blue eyes. “I don’t know anything about her,” she declared. “I’m sure you know quite a lot,” French returned. “All I want is to ask you some questions. If you answer them truly, you have nothing to fear, but, as you probably know, there are very serious penalties indeed for keeping back evidence. You could be sent to prison for that.” Having by these remarks banished the girl’s look of insolence and reduced her to a suitable frame of mind, French got on to business. “Am I right in believing that you have been until last Friday house and parlourmaid to Mrs. Vane, of Crewe Lodge, St. John’s Wood Road?” “Yes, I was there for about three months.” French, to assist not only his own memory but the impressiveness of the interview, noted the reply in his book. “Three months,” he repeated deliberately. “Very good. Now, why did you leave?” “Because I had to,” the girl said sulkily. “Mrs. Vane was closing the house.” French nodded.