From the moment when he was introduced to Kitty Frensham Ellery had a feeling that he had found what he wanted. She was very gracious; but, as Jaxon introduced her, she smiled, and the coming of her smile was for all the world as if she had suddenly pressed the switch and turned it on like the electric light. Both the other Kittys had smiles which they turned on and off at will; but their smiles came into being gradually, whereas this woman smiled, and stopped smiling, with quite extraordinary suddenness. Ellery was so sure that she was the right woman, and also, as he told Jaxon afterwards, so sure of her common sense, that he plunged straight into his story. “There’s something I want to ask you,” he said, “indeed, I got Jaxon to introduce me on purpose. You know Walter Brooklyn, don’t you?” Her face at once became serious. “Yes, I do. I have just seen the terrible news in the evening paper. Do you think he can have done it, Mr. Ellery? I suppose you know him too.” “Yes, I know him, and I am quite sure he had nothing to do with it. I want you to help prove that I am right. You saw him on Tuesday night, did you not?” “I had quite forgotten it; but I did. I spoke to him for a minute or two. I was coming out of the Alhambra with Horace—Mr. Mandleham, that is—and Horace had left me for a minute to look for a taxi. The Old ’un came up and spoke to me, I remember.” “The Old ’un? Is that a name for Walter Brooklyn?” “Yes, we used to call him ‘The Old Rip’; but it got shortened to ‘the Old ’un.’ He goes the pace rather, even now, you know.” “I dare say he does; and of course that is likely to make it all the worse for him with the jury—if it’s the usual sort.” “But if he didn’t do it, surely he’s all right, isn’t he?” “The fact that you remember meeting him may be the means of saving his life. Can you tell me at what time that was?” “Oh, Lord, Mr. Ellery, I never know the time. It was some time in the evening, fairly early. We left before the show was over. Horace would probably know.” “Did Mr. Mandleham see Mr. Brooklyn?” “Yes, he did. When he came back he asked me who it was I had been talking to.” At this point a new voice struck into the conversation. “Hallo, Kitty, you seem very deep in something. Haven’t you even a word for me?” “Why, here is Horace,” said Kitty. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours, Horace. It’s really too bad. But now you come over here, and make yourself really useful for a minute. It’s not a thing you do often.” Horace Mandleham was fortunately quite precise about the time. They had left the Alhambra a few minutes after half-past ten, and he had come back with the taxi just about a quarter to eleven. Walter Brooklyn had at that moment taken his leave of Kitty Frensham. Yes, that was the man. He recognised at once the photograph which Ellery passed across to him. He was quite ready to swear to it, if it was of any importance. He had seen the evening paper, and knew the chap was in trouble.