"I cannot discuss her," Wrayson answered. "I can only say that I will answer for her innocence as regards any complicity in the murder of Morris Barnes." Heneage nodded sympathetically. "Still," he remarked, "the man was murdered." "I suppose so," Wrayson admitted. "And in a most mysterious manner," Heneage continued. "You have gathered, I dare say, from your knowledge of me, that these affairs always interest me immensely. I am almost as great a crank as the Colonel. I have been thinking over this case a great deal, but I must confess that up to to-night I have not been able to see a gleam of daylight. I had dismissed the young lady from my mind. Now, however, I cannot do so." "Simply because you saw her with the Baroness de Sturm?" Wrayson asked. "They are living together," Heneage reminded him, "a condition which naturally makes for a certain amount of intimacy." "Do you know anything against the Baroness?" Wrayson demanded. "Against her?" Heneage repeated thoughtfully. "Well, that depends." "Do you mean to insinuate that she is an adventuress?" Wrayson asked bluntly. "Certainly not," Heneage replied. "She is a representative of one of the oldest families in Europe, a _persona grata_ at the Court of her country, and an intimate friend of Queen Helena's. She is by no means an adventuress." "Then why," Wrayson asked, "should you attach such significance to the fact of her friendship with Miss Deveney?" "Because," Heneage remarked, lighting another cigarette, "I happen to know that the Baroness is at present under the strictest police surveillance!" Wrayson started. Heneage's first statement had reassured him: his later one was simply terrifying. He stared at his visitor in dumb alarm. "I came to know of this in rather a curious way," Heneage continued. "My information, in fact, came direct from her own country. She is being watched with extraordinary care, in connection with some affair of which I must confess that I know nothing. She is staying in London, a city which I happen to know she detests, without any ostensible reason. Of all parts, she has chosen Battersea as a place of residence. It is her companion whom I saw leaving your flat at three o'clock on the morning of Barnes' murder. I am bound to say, Wrayson, that I find these facts interesting." "Why have you come to me?" Wrayson asked. "What are you going to do about them?" "I am going to set myself the task of solving the mystery of Morris Barnes' death," Heneage answered calmly. "If I succeed, I am very much afraid that, directly or indirectly, the presence of Miss Deveney in the flats that night will become known." "And you advise me, therefore," Wrayson remarked, "to take a voyage--in plain words, to clear out." "Exactly," Heneage agreed. Wrayson threw his cigarette angrily into the fire. "What the devil business is it of yours?" he demanded. Heneage looked at him steadily.