Caruth blenched slightly. The reporter’s inquiry was probably only casual, but it might easily be otherwise. Perhaps he had erred in consulting this keen-faced newspaper man. However, there was nothing to do but to go on. “Yes,” he answered steadily; “it was the same night.” Bristow nodded. “I saw the lady,” he stated reflectively. “She was a looker all right. She had deep violet eyes and dark hair with a glint in it. She spoke English perfectly, but there was something foreign about her.” He paused and knocked the ash from his cigar. “I came up on the tug with her,” he added casually. “Yes? And her name? I--I--have reasons for wanting to know.” Bristow smiled inscrutably. “I don’t doubt you have,” he answered drily, “and, as it happens, I can probably give you some information. The question is whether I shall do it.” Caruth colored. “I don’t understand you, Mr. Bristow,” he syllabled anxiously. “Probably not. I will try to explain.” The reporter tossed his cigar into the fire and leaned back in his chair. “Isn’t it curious how things fit in together?” he began reflectively. “Life is a mosaic made up of hundreds of separate facts. Each belongs in one place and only in one. Until rightly fitted, the whole is an unintelligible jumble. But when fitted, we see that they are all parts of one design. I am interested in Russia and Russians. My work has compelled me to be; some of the best ‘stories’ I have gotten for the Consolidated Press have had to do with Russia. I am well acquainted in the Russian colony here. Professor Shishkin, the distinguished Russian scientist, is a great friend of mine. I’m telling you this so that you may understand why I was interested in this woman--this Russian woman, for she was Russian--about whom you are inquiring. My interest did not decrease when she took a cab at the Battery and told the cabman to drive her to this building.” Caruth gasped, but said nothing. “When I returned home after midnight,” went on the reporter, “the elevator had stopped running, and I had to walk up the stairs. Your door was ajar. As I passed it I distinctly heard a woman’s voice--and yours. It was none of my business, and I went on upstairs and to bed. The next morning I heard about your valet’s murder, and noticed that you said nothing about a visitor in your flat. Yet a woman must have been there when your man fled; in fact, I suspect that he had left your door open in his flight only a moment before I passed up the stairs. Your inquiry seems to bring all these facts into a somewhat curious consonance.” Caruth was breathing hard. “Well?” he asked. “What are you going to do about it?”