The girl realised at once the importance of finding out further details about this conference. If she could get a look at the visitor, and overhear some of the conversation, the result might be of inestimable value, for there could be no disputing the fact that all the circumstances combined to adorn the incident with a distinctly fishy aspect. And if the clue provided were as damning as she hoped it would be, and she were caught eavesdropping . . . The girl drew a long breath and felt again for the reassuring heavy sleekness of her weapon. She had told the Saint that she could be more help than hindrance to him, and now was the time to prove it. The risk attached to the enterprise would have to be faced in the Saintly manner—with a devil-may-care smile and a shrug and a pious hope that the Lord would provide. “Carry on, brave heart,” said Patricia, and opened the door. She crept noiselessly down the stairs, but on the last flight she had to stop and deliberate. There were two ways: the door or the windows. The keyhole seemed easier, but she had just remembered that every board in the floor of the old hall had its own vociferous creak. She would have to spy from the garden. She listened, leaning over the banisters, but the walls and the door were more solid affairs than the floor, and the people in the drawing-room must have been talking in subdued tones—perhaps they had just realised the possibility of their being overheard. She could barely catch a whisper of their speech. As silently as she had descended she climbed the stairs again. The door of Miss Girton’s room stood open, and she went in, crossed swiftly, and opened the casement windows. This room was on the opposite side of the house to the drawing-room, and just beneath the windows was a kind of shed with a sloping roof. As a schoolgirl, Patricia had often clambered through those windows and taken perilous toboggan-rides down the slates, saving herself from the drop by catching her heels in the gutter. Now she was bigger, and the stunt had no terrors for her. Slithering swiftly over the sill she gathered up her skirt, held on for a second, and then let herself slide. Rotten as it was, the gutter stopped her as safely as it had ever done, in spite of her increased weight. Then she worked herself over the edge, let herself down as far as she could, and let herself fall the remaining five feet, landing lightly on the grass below.