Mr. Troy addressed himself once more to Lady Lydiard. “Did your Ladyship take the letter into the next room with you?” “I was too much alarmed to think of it, Mr. Troy. I left it here, on the table.” “With the envelope open?” “Yes.” “How long were you absent in the other room?” “Half an hour or more.” “Ha!” said Mr. Troy to himself. “This complicates it a little.” He reflected for a while, and then turned again to Moody. “Did any of the servants know of this bank-note being in her Ladyship’s possession?” “Not one of them,” Moody answered. “Do you suspect any of the servants?” “Certainly not, sir.” “Are there any workmen employed in the house?” “No, sir.” “Do you know of any persons who had access to the room while Lady Lydiard was absent from it?” “Two visitors called, sir.” “Who were they?” “Her Ladyship’s nephew, Mr. Felix Sweetsir, and the Honorable Alfred Hardyman.” Mr. Troy shook his head irritably. “I am not speaking of gentlemen of high position and repute,” he said. “It’s absurd even to mention Mr. Sweetsir and Mr. Hardyman. My question related to strangers who might have obtained access to the drawing-room--people calling, with her Ladyship’s sanction, for subscriptions, for instance; or people calling with articles of dress or ornament to be submitted to her Ladyship’s inspection.” “No such persons came to the house with my knowledge,” Moody answered. Mr. Troy suspended the investigation, and took a turn thoughtfully in the room. The theory on which his inquiries had proceeded thus far had failed to produce any results. His experience warned him to waste no more time on it, and to return to the starting-point of the investigation--in other words, to the letter. Shifting his point of view, he turned again to Lady Lydiard, and tried his questions in a new direction. “Mr. Moody mentioned just now,” he said, “that your Ladyship was called into the next room before you could seal your letter. On your return to this room, did you seal the letter?” “I was busy with the dog,” Lady Lydiard answered. “Isabel Miller was of no use in the boudoir, and I told her to seal it for me.” Mr. Troy started. The new direction in which he was pushing his inquiries began to look like the right direction already. “Miss Isabel Miller,” he proceeded, “has been a resident under your Ladyship’s roof for some little time, I believe?” “For nearly two years, Mr. Troy.” “As your Ladyship’s companion and reader?” “As my adopted daughter,” her Ladyship answered, with marked emphasis. Wise Mr. Troy rightly interpreted the emphasis as a warning to him to suspend the examination of her Ladyship, and to address to Mr. Moody the far more serious questions which were now to come. “Did anyone give you the letter before you left the house with it?” he said to the steward. “Or did you take it yourself?” “I took it myself, from the table here.” “Was it sealed?” “Yes.” “Was anybody present when you took the letter from the table?”