The appointment was for two and, after telling Aggie McGee that a gentleman would call and to show him into the reception room, she retired to the long Louis Quinze salon and threw herself on a sofa. She was a little scared at what she had planned but she did not let her uneasiness interfere with her intention, for, her mind once set on a goal, she was as determined as her mother. Stretched comfortably on the sofa, her glance traveling over the covered walls, the chandelier, a misshapen bulging whiteness below the frescoed ceiling, she carefully thought out what she would say to Mr. Larkin. A ring of the bell brought her to a sitting position, her hands pushing in loosened hairpins. She waited listening, heard the opening and closing of doors and then Aggie McGee’s head appeared between the shrouded portières and announced, "The gentleman to see you, ma’am." Her first impression of him was as a tall, broad-shouldered shape, detailless against the light of the window. Then, as she sunk into a chair, motioning him to one opposite, a nearer view showed him as a fine-looking man, on to forty, with a fresh-colored, rounded face, its expression smilingly good-humored. After the unkempt and slouchy detectives she had seen at Grasslands his appearance, natty, smart, almost that of a man of fashion, surprised and pleased her. She had an instinctive distaste for all ungroomed and ill-dressed people and seeing him so like the members of her own world, she felt a rising confidence and reassurance. Also his manners were good, respectful, businesslike. The one thing about him that suggested the wily sleuth were his eyes, very light colored in his ruddy face, small, shrewd and piercing. He came to the matter of the moment without any preamble. Yes, he knew of the robbery and knew who she was; he supposed she had called him up to consult him about the case. "Of course, Mr. Larkin," she said, "that’s what I wanted. But before I say anything it must be understood between us that this—er—sending for you—is entirely my affair. I want to employ you myself independently of the others." He nodded, showing no surprise; "You want to put your own detective on the case." "Exactly. You’re to be employed by me but no one must know you are or know what you’re doing." He smothered a smile and said: "I see." "I don’t think the men that are working over it now are very clever or interested. They just poke about and ask the same questions over and over. The way they’re going I should say we’d never get anything back. So I decided I’d start an inquiry of my own and in a direction no one else had thought of." Mr. Larkin gave a slight movement an almost imperceptible straightening up of his body: "Do you mean that you suspect some one?" Suzanne looked at the arm of her chair and then smoothed its linen cover with delicate finger tips. A very slight color deepened the artificial rose of her cheek. "I’m afraid I do," she murmured. "Afraid?"