I glanced at him a little uneasily. In spite of his age, Tarleton was a fascinating man. I had seen enough of him to know that he was popular with women of all ages. Young women seemed to regard him as an uncle, and became familiar with him at very short notice; and I could not be sure that he always regarded them strictly as nieces. Glad as I was that my chief had acquitted Violet in his mind, I was not altogether pleased by the warmth with which he spoke. “We may take it that she lent her dress to a friend who meant to impersonate her. We don’t know whether the friend had a grievance of her own against Weathered, or whether she was acting as Lady Violet’s champion. And in the second case we can’t say whether Lady Violet knew or guessed what her champion intended to do. You see, there is still a serious case against the poor girl. If the police knew that she was in Weathered’s power, and that she had lent her costume to his murderer, they might come to a very ugly conclusion.” “I am certain she had no idea that any crime was going to be committed,” I spoke earnestly. “Quite so; you feel certain of that, but Captain Charles might feel certain of the opposite. You see now why I thought it better for us to come down here instead of one of his men.” I did indeed see it, and inwardly I thanked Sir Frank with all my heart. “I think we will tell Charles that we obtained satisfactory proof that Lady Violet was at Tyberton Castle on Wednesday night, and that her maid found the Zenobia costume for us in her wardrobe. That ought to make him dismiss her from the case.” I could have asked for nothing better, so far. “And the letters?” I put in anxiously. “Ah! I didn’t care to tell Lord Ledbury all I feared about them. I shouldn’t be surprised if Weathered had stored them in the Domino Club.” I could not restrain a cry of alarm. “Yes,” Tarleton went on, “that would be the worst case of all. Because by this time they must be in the hands of Madame Bonnell.” The smooth, smiling face of the Frenchwoman with its shrewd black eyes and thin lips rose before me. As my chief had said, this was the worst case of all. “If that woman has them it may be some time before we hear of them,” the specialist pursued in a meditative tone. “She may wait till the inquiry into the death is over, and the case disposed of as far as the police are concerned. Then the victims will each receive a discreet letter, probably from an agent, informing them that certain letters which appear to be in their handwriting have been found, and asking if they wish to have them returned. There won’t be a word about money in the first communication, you may be sure. The victims will simply be invited to call on the agents and inspect the letters. That woman knows her business, I fancy.” It was horrible to think of Violet being slowly drawn into the serpent’s coils. There would be less mercy to look for in such a woman than in Weathered himself.