“Milor,”--he had been sharp enough to notice the Inspector’s use of a title in addressing the consultant--“I particularly noticed one person who appeared to me a stranger who did not very well know his way about the club, and who appeared to have some business with Monsieur Wilson.” “Ah!” Tarleton’s deep breath told me that he felt himself on a real trail. “And how was this person disguised?” “The disguise was an extraordinary one, milor. It was that which first attracted my notice. It was at once the costume of a man and of a woman. That is to say, the upper part was that of a warrior in armour, and the lower part was a woman’s skirt.” “Joan of Arc,” exclaimed Charles. The Frenchman shrank in horror. “But, monsieur, it could not have been Sainte Jeanne! For instance, the helmet was Roman.” “Neither did she wear a skirt with her armour,” the physician added quietly. “It must have been meant for Zenobia.” The Inspector’s face showed so clearly that he had never heard of the famous Queen of Palmyra that I should have been amused if I had not been on the rack of suspense. Fortunately, Tarleton was now engrossed in his new line of inquiry. “In spite of this feminine disguise, in spite of the skirt, you recognized that this stranger was a man, it seems?” The eloquent hands protested again. “But no, milor; I said I had my suspicion, that is all. Madame----” The doctor cut him short. “You thought this person, Zenobia, had some business with Wilson. Tell me, how many persons knew that Wilson wore that disguise last night?” He turned and pointed to the dead body which lay full in view from where we were seated. Gerard let his eyes follow the gesture and withdrew them with a sickly twinge. “Everyone knew it, I think. It was the disguise he wore invariably in the club. It was as if he came here to meet his clients, and it was necessary for them to know that they were speaking to him.” Sir Frank Tarleton nodded more than once this time. He evidently felt himself to be getting a firm grip on the problem. I admired the sagacity he had shown in transferring his examination from the proprietress of the club to the waiter. Gerard was proving a much easier witness to deal with than Madame Bonnell. He had not so much at stake. “And now,” the consultant pursued, “perhaps you can tell us if there were any other persons who showed a desire to meet Wilson last night?” Gerard brightened up visibly. “But certainly, milor. There was one in particular who never seemed to take her eyes off him. She danced with him time after time, and when she was not dancing with him herself she watched those who did.” “And how was she dressed?” “Milor, she was hardly dressed at all.” Gerard may have feared another irreverent guess from Captain Charles, for he added quickly: “I heard Monsieur address her as Salome.” The Inspector was again busy with his note-book. But Sir Frank struck me as not being quite so deeply interested in Salome as he had been in Zenobia.