“For Heaven’s sake,” interrupted Michael, “don’t tell me that you haven’t missed things! I tell you Kate would not touch a pin in your house. In the first place she is a well-off woman. Why in Heaven’s name should she bother her head about your belongings? I don’t suppose, if she had the full run of your house, she could find £100 worth of realisable property! No, that is not why Kate came to you. How long has she been here?” “Nearly a month,” said Lord Flanborough, a little annoyed that the result of his own private investigations had so utterly failed to impress a representative of Scotland Yard. “What work has she been doing?” “Ordinary secretarial work for Moya. She came with excellent letters of recommendation.” “You can forget those,” interrupted Michael testily; “the gentleman who wrote them lives at No. 9, Crime Street and his name is Millet.” “She was a wonderful typist,” began his lordship, who was seeking about in his own mind for some excuse which would explain why he had been deceived. “That I also know. She is, as you say, one of the fastest typists in the world. In fact, no aspect of her education has been neglected. She speaks five languages and read French fluently when she was nine. What work has she done for you?” Lord Flanborough considered for a while. “She has copied a few letters and reports.” “What kind of reports?” “Reports from our South African companies. You see, Michael, I still retain the direction of most of my old interests.” “Were they very important--the reports, I mean?” “Yes and no,” replied Lord Flanborough slowly; “they were merely records of output, cost of production and projected shipments.” “On what other work was she employed?” “Let me think,” said Lord Flanborough. “I _am_ letting you!” replied Michael tartly. “You used to have a very private code-book if I remember rightly.” “That is true,” said Lord Flanborough, “but of course, she did not see that.” “Where did you keep it?” “In my desk,” said Lord Flanborough. “Is it possible that she could have seen it?” “It is possible, but wholly impossible that she could have copied it.” “For how long a time together was she left alone?” “Five minutes was the longest period she was left in the library alone,” said his lordship after consideration. Michael fingered his chin. “Did you ever come into the library and find her in a semi-fainting condition?” he asked. Lord Flanborough looked at him with open-mouthed amazement. “Did she tell you?” Michael shook his head. “No, she has told me nothing. I gather from your question that there was such an occurrence?” “It is remarkable that you should ask the question,” said his lordship. “I _did_ come in one morning to find the poor girl--er, the wretched girl, in a semi-fainting condition.” “And you went out and got her a glass of water and sent for your housekeeper, I suppose,” said Michael, his lip curling. “Yes, I did,” admitted his lordship.