"It is sufficient," assented Madame. "I will now take you to the spot. It is necessary that you alone should accompany me, for my husband is so distraught in this country, where he understands not a word of what is spoken, that his poor spirit would cry 'We are surrounded!' if he saw two strangers approach the house. Oh, he is become most dreadful in his anxiety, my husband. Imagine only, he keeps on the fire a cauldron of molten lead and he would not hesitate to plunge into it this treasure and obliterate its existence if he imagined himself endangered." "So," speculated Carrados inwardly. "A likely precaution for a simple vine-grower of Calabria! Very well," he assented aloud, "I will go with you alone. Where is the place?" Madame Ferraja searched in the ancient purse that she discovered in her rusty handbag and produced a scrap of paper. "People do not understand sometimes my way of saying it," she explained. "_Sette_, Herringbone----" "May I----?" said Carrados, stretching out his hand. He took the paper and touched the writing with his finger-tips. "Oh yes, 7 Heronsbourne Place. That is on the edge of Heronsbourne Park, is it not?" He transferred the paper casually to his desk as he spoke and stood up. "How did you come, Madame Ferraja?" Madame Ferraja followed the careless action with a discreet smile that did not touch her voice. "By motor bus--first one then another, inquiring at every turning. Oh, but it was interminable," sighed the lady. "My driver is off for the evening--I did not expect to be going out--but I will 'phone up a taxi and it will be at the gate as soon as we are." He despatched the message and then, turning to the house telephone, switched on to Greatorex. "I'm just going round to Heronsbourne Park," he explained. "Don't stay, Greatorex, but if anyone calls expecting to see me, they can say that I don't anticipate being away more than an hour." Parkinson was hovering about the hall. With quite novel officiousness he pressed upon his master a succession of articles that were not required. Over this usually complacent attendant the unattractive features of Madame Ferraja appeared to exercise a stealthy fascination, for a dozen times the lady detected his eyes questioning her face and a dozen times he looked guiltily away again. But his incongruities could not delay for more than a few minutes the opening of the door. "I do not accompany you, sir?" he inquired, with the suggestion plainly tendered in his voice that it would be much better if he did. "Not this time, Parkinson." "Very well, sir. Is there any particular address to which we can telephone in case you are required, sir?" "Mr Greatorex has instructions." Parkinson stood aside, his resources exhausted. Madame Ferraja laughed a little mockingly as they walked down the drive. "Your man-servant thinks I may eat you, Signor Carrados," she declared vivaciously.