“I think we can,” rejoined Lady Molly, simply; “at any rate, I mean to try. I have two of the waitresses from Mathis’ outside in a cab, and I have already spoken to the attendant who served you at Sanchia’s, an obscure milliner in a back street near Portland Road. We know that you were at great pains there to order a hat of certain dimensions and to your own minute description; it was a copy of one you had once seen Miss Löwenthal wear when you met her at your late husband’s office. We can prove that meeting, too. Then we have your maid’s testimony that you wore that same hat once, and once only, the day, presumably, that you went out to a concert--a statement which you will find it difficult to substantiate--and also the day on which your husband was murdered.” “Bah! the public will laugh at you!” retorted Lady Irene, still defiantly. “You would not dare to formulate so monstrous a charge!” “It will not seem monstrous when justice has [IMAGE: images/img290.jpg CAPTION: “Lady Irene, with a cry of agony, fell senseless in my dear lady’s arms”] weighed in the balance the facts which we can prove. Let me tell you a few of these, the result of careful investigation. There is the fact that you knew of Mr. Culledon’s entanglement with Miss Elizabeth Löwenthal, and did your best to keep it from old Mrs. Steinberg’s knowledge, realising that any scandal round her favourite nephew would result in the old lady cutting him--and therefore you--out of her will. You dismissed a parlour-maid for the sole reason that she had been present when Miss Löwenthal was shown into Mr. Culledon’s study. There is the fact that Mrs. Steinberg had so worded her will that, in the event of her nephew dying before her, her fortune would devolve on you; the fact that, with Miss Löwenthal’s action for breach of promise against your husband, your last hope of keeping the scandal from the old lady’s ears had effectually vanished. You saw the fortune eluding your grasp; you feared Mrs. Steinberg would alter her will. Had you found the means, and had you dared, would you not rather have killed the old lady? But discovery would have been certain. The other crime was bolder and surer. You have inherited the old lady’s millions, for she never knew of her nephew’s earlier peccadillos. “All this we can state and prove, and the history of the hat, bought, and worn one day only, that same memorable day, and then thrown away.” A loud laugh interrupted her--a laugh that froze my very marrow. “There is one fact you have forgotten, my lady of Scotland Yard,” came in sharp, strident accents from the black-robed figure, which seemed to have become strangely spectral in the fast gathering gloom which had been enveloping the luxurious little boudoir. “Don’t omit to mention the fact that the accused took the law into her own hands.” And before my dear lady and I could rush to prevent her, Lady Irene Culledon had conveyed something--we dared not think what--to her mouth.