“It is about a forged cheque. Some of the money has been traced to me. Darling, I’ve come to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth. Kingfether as good as told me I was a liar when I said I’d cashed it for a veiled woman. I don’t mind really what he says--he’s a crook, that fellow! Money has been missing from the bank--they sent old Reeder down weeks ago----” “How did they trace money to you?” she interrupted. “And what do you want me to tell you?” “You knew that I owed money--I told you.” She nodded. “And how worried I was about it. I can’t remember whether I told you how much I owed----” She shook her head. “You didn’t,” she said, and he drew a long breath. “Then it wasn’t you,” he said. He described the arrival of the letter containing the banknotes. “Two hundred pounds, and of course I wanted the money badly.” “Who else knew that you were short of money?” she asked. “Oh, everybody.” He was in despair. “I blabbed about it--Kingfether said that he never ordered me to cash any cheque that came, and that the story of a veiled woman who arrived by car from London when he was out at lunch was all moonshine--hullo!” He saw the door of the drawing-room opening and gasped at the sight of Mr. Reeder. “It wasn’t moonshine, my young friend,” said Mr. Reeder. “In fact, I--er--have interviewed a garage keeper who filled up the tank of the lady’s car, and incidentally saw the lady.” He turned to the room and beckoned Ena. Kenneth stared at her. “Well?” she said defiantly. “Do you think you’ll know me again?” “I know you now!” he said huskily. “You’re the woman who cashed the cheque!” “That’s a damned lie!” she screamed. “S-sh!” said Mr. Reeder, shocked. “I’ve never seen him before!” she added, and Margot gasped. “But you told me----” “I’ve never seen him before,” insisted the woman. “You’ll see him again,” said Mr. Reeder gently. “You on one side--the wrong side--of the witness box, and he on the other!” Then she lost her head. “If there was a swindle, he was in it!” she said, speaking rapidly. “You don’t suppose any clerk would pay out six hundred pounds to somebody he had never seen before unless he had his instructions and got his corner! How did I know the cheque was forged? It seemed all right to me.” “May it continue to seem all right,” said Mr. Reeder piously. “May you be consoled through the long period of your incarceration with the--er--comfort of a good conscience. I think you will get three years--but if your previous convictions influence the judge, I fancy you will get five!” Ena collapsed. “You can’t charge me,” she whimpered. “I didn’t forge anything.” “There is a crime called ‘uttering’,” said Mr. Reeder. “‘Uttering--knowing to be forged.’ Will you take the young lady’s arm, Mrs. Grible? I will take the other--probably we shall meet a policeman _en route_. And did I say anything about ‘conspiracy?’ That is also an offence. Mind that mat, Mrs. Grible.” CHAPTER X