The Frenchwoman uttered a faint groan as I stretched out my hand to obey. I could have groaned in sympathy with her. And yet I was not in any fear on my own account. I had no reason to think that my name would be found in the Visitors’-book. I had been too careful for that. But there was another name which I had only too much reason for expecting to see in the other volume. And I cursed the proprietress in my heart for not destroying the dangerous record while it was in her power. She had fancied herself secure, and had cared nothing for the security of her patrons. What did it matter to her who might be incriminated, as long as her livelihood was not threatened? True, she had done her best at the last moment to prevent the authorities from gaining access to these books. But it was easy to see her self-interest in that. Those records were part of her stock-in-trade. They gave her a hold on the members of the club, who might be disposed to forsake it as soon as any hint of the tragedy got abroad. In that case she had only to say to them, “Leave the club, throw me over, and I take my books to the newspaper offices, and sell them for what they will fetch.” Such was the situation, so far as I could see it. Either the reputation of the Domino Club was to be saved, and all was to go on as before; or it would be for Madame’s benefit that the scandal should be as widespread as possible, and that every member and visitor should pay heavily for having his or her name kept out of it. In parting with these two volumes she was parting with her most valuable weapons as a blackmailer. Whether any such considerations as these influenced my chief, I could not tell. Outwardly he seemed to have only one end in view--the tracing of the crime to its perpetrator. As soon as I had possessed myself of the two books he made a sign to Captain Charles. “It will be as well for you to lock this cupboard and keep the key for the present. Unless there is anything that Madame Bonnell particularly wishes to remove first.” Madame glanced longingly at the row of mysterious little boxes and bottles, but she prudently shook her head. “_Merci, monsieur._ I will take nothing. I wish to have no secrets from the police. I prefer to replace my perfumes from the shop.” Tarleton smiled with a grudging respect. This was an adversary after his own heart, one who knew every point in the game, and knew when to play for safety. The Inspector locked the door and pocketed the key with the same wooden precision with which he would have taken the number of a taxi or arrested the Crown Prince of Slavonia. “Is Madame Bonnell still under arrest?” he inquired stolidly. “Not as far as I am concerned,” the physician said lightly. “My business with Madame is over. All I have to do now is to make the medical examination, and to wait for the result of your inquiries elsewhere.”