He paused in reflection, and took Weathered’s diary from his pocket. “The first thing, it seems to me, is to make out a list of the members who were also patients, and to underline the names of those who had a number as well. It is among them that we may expect to find Zenobia and Salome and possibly the Leopardess as well, though her behaviour suggests that she can hardly have been a patient. She may have been one formerly.” I listened anxiously. Every moment I was expecting the name which I foresaw too surely would be found in the final list of suspects. Suddenly Tarleton turned to me with an unexpected order. “While I am comparing these two books you can go through the Visitors’-book It may interest you to find the entry of your own name.” I could not tell whether my dismay was visible to the gray eyes that seemed to look at me with such perfect indifference. My dilemma was truly critical. I knew, of course, that my name did not appear in the volume I was required to search. And if I pretended to look for it I should land myself in a series of traps. My chief would want some explanation of its absence; and what explanation could I give? If I said that I had been present under a false name he would naturally expect me to tell him that name. And he would expect me to tell him at once, before I opened the book and began the mock search. I had barely a second in which to make up my mind. If only my own reputation, or even my own life, had been at stake, I think I should have thrown myself on his mercy, and come out with the whole truth. But I was held as in an iron vice. The knowledge that the police were actively engaged in tracing the purchasers of the costumes which had been described to us by Gerard haunted my consciousness. I was driven in despair to tell my first direct falsehood to my chief. I opened the volume hurriedly as I spoke. “I don’t think I shall find my own name here.” “Why not?” The question came instantly, though it came in a quiet, friendly tone. “My recollection is that I gave some other name. I am trying to remember what. I was rather doubtful about the character of the place, and didn’t want to run the risk of it being known that I had been there. I considered the name didn’t matter; I thought it was merely a form.” I was glancing feverishly through the pages as I talked, trying to pick out some name too common to be easily identified. “Ah, yes, I remember now--Carter.” I placed my finger on an entry nine months old. A Mr. Robert Carter had been introduced on that date by a Captain Smethwick. Much to my relief Tarleton accepted the explanation readily. “I dare say a good many of the names in that book are equally fictitious,” he said with good humour. “Look and see what name the Crown Prince took last night.” It was easily found. A Count Donau had been introduced by the Chancellor of the Slavonian Embassy. “Any other visitors?” the consultant asked lightly.