"My dear girl, I don't think there's a chance of your getting at him! However, of course you shall be driven over as soon as you like. He _may_ see you--_you're_ not the sort of person he's afraid of." He looked at her a little sharply. "You never had any money dealings with him, had you, Katty? Now, honour bright----" "Of course not," she laughed. "Is it likely? My husband may have had, in the long, long ago--but I, never!" * * * * * An hour or so later, Katty Winslow, alone in her friend's motor, found herself before the lodge of the big lonely place where the retired money-lender--a Yorkshireman by birth--had set up his household gods. The great gates were closed and locked, but there was a bell, and she rang it. After a certain interval the lodge-keeper came out. "I've come to see Mr. Greville Howard," she explained, and smiled amiably at the man. He looked at her doubtfully. "The master don't see no one excepting by appointment," he said gruffly. "I think he'll see me." And then an extraordinary piece of luck befell Katty Winslow. While she was standing there, parleying, she suddenly saw a man inside the park, walking towards the gates. "I think," she said boldly, "that that _is_ Mr. Greville Howard?" and she saw by the lodgekeeper's face that she was right in her guess. Moving gracefully forward, she slid past him, and thus she stood just within the gates, while slowly there advanced towards her--and, had she but known it, towards many others--Fate, in the person of a tall, thin, some would have said a very distinguished-looking, elderly man. As he came up, he looked at Katty with a measuring, thoughtful glance, and his eyes travelled beyond her to the well-appointed motor drawn up in the lonely country road outside. Now this was the sort of situation to amuse and stimulate, rather than alarm, Katty, the more so that the stranger, who was now close to her, was looking at her pleasantly rather than otherwise. She took a step towards him. "Mr. Howard?" she exclaimed, in her full, agreeable voice. "I wonder if you would be so kind as to grant me a short interview? I want to see you about the late Mr. Godfrey Pavely. He was a great friend of mine." As she uttered the dead banker's name, Greville Howard's face stiffened into sudden watchfulness. But he said slowly: "May I enquire your name, madam?" "Oh yes," she said eagerly. "My name is Winslow--I am Mrs. Winslow. I was Godfrey Pavely's oldest friend--we were children together." "Ah!" he exclaimed. "Your name comes back to me. I think you were mentioned at the inquest, Mrs. Winslow? But you did not give any evidence, if I remember rightly." "No, I was not asked to give evidence," she answered. "And you yourself, Mr. Howard, were too ill to come and say what you knew about--about----" "About Mr. Pavely's murderer," he said smoothly.