She was feeling a little more comfortable now. Katty knew the great value of truth, though she sometimes, nay generally, behaved as if truth were of no value at all. In a sense Lord St. Amant had known Katty from her childhood--known her, that is, in the way in which the great magnate of a country neighbourhood, if a friendly, human kind of individual, knows every man, woman and child within a certain radius of his home. He was of course well aware of Mrs. Tropenell's prejudice against Katty, and, without exactly sharing it, he did not look at her with the kindly, indulgent eyes with which most members of his sex regarded the pretty, unfortunate, innocent _divorcée_, to whom Mr. and Mrs. Godfrey Pavely had been so truly kind. But now, as the upshot of Katty's murmured confidences, her present host certainly acquired a new interest in, and a new sympathy for, Mrs. Winslow. Of course she had not deceived him as completely as she believed herself to have done, for he felt certain that she knew more of Godfrey Pavely's movements, during the early days of his stay in London a fortnight ago, than she admitted. He was also quite convinced that they had met secretly during their joint absence from home. But Lord St. Amant would have felt a hypocrite indeed had he on that account thought any the worse of Katty Winslow. He told himself that after all the poor little woman did not owe him _all_ the truth! If Godfrey Pavely had indeed come to his death in this extraordinary, accidental way, then Katty, whatever Mrs. Tropenell might feel, was much to be pitied; nice women, even so broad-minded a woman as was his own, close friend, are apt to be hard on a woman who is not perhaps quite--nice! It was therefore with a good deal of curiosity that he watched his two guests while they ate the luncheon prepared for them. Laura practically took nothing at all. She tried to swallow a little of the delicious, perfectly cooked cold chicken and mousse-au-jambon, but in the end she only managed to drink the whole of the large glass of water her host poured out for her. Katty, on the other hand, made a good meal, and took her full share of a half-bottle of champagne. As a result she looked, when luncheon was over, more like her usual, pretty, alert self than she had looked yet. Laura grew paler and paler, and at last Lord St. Amant, with kindly authority, insisted on her taking a cup of coffee, and a tiny liqueur glassful of brandy poured into it French fashion. "I'm afraid," he said feelingly, "that you have a very painful ordeal in front of you, my dear. You won't make it any better by going without food." But she gazed at him as if she had not understood the purport of his words. CHAPTER XVII Sir Angus Kinross, Chief Commissioner of Police, stood gazing down, with a look of frowning perplexity, at the sheet of typewritten paper he held in his hand.