"How clever you women are. You know everything. As it happens, it seems to me that he's just the sort of man who would not say anything, and I ought to be a pretty good judge of that kind of thing if any one is." Mr. Holman was regarding the two portraits which he had submitted to Mr. Tennant for inspection. "I don't half like it. I can swear that this is a good likeness of the woman that was found. He says that it's not the least like the woman who was with him in the train. "Fiddlededee!" "Of course it's fiddlededee. And if he was hung, and it came out afterwards that what he said was true, it would look like fiddlededee, wouldn't it? I should feel as if I'd murdered him." "Matthew!" "Somehow the tale which he tells sounds true, and the queer part of it is that he says that the woman whom he travelled with in the train from Brighton was actually present in the court during the trial." "It isn't possible." "Oh, dear no! Of course not. If you say so, it couldn't be. It seems funny though that the governor should be of a different opinion." "What governor?" "What governor! The governor of Lewes gaol--stupid! Considering how clever you set yourself up to be, it's queer what a lot of explanation you seem to want. The governor noticed this woman of whom Tennant speaks, and something about her goings-on struck him as being queer. I've been looking for her in Lewes all this blessed day. She's not there. But I'll find her if she's anywhere. I'm not going to have a man hung for a woman that's alive if I can help it. I'm going to make my report in the morning, and if I'm not told off to hunt her up I'll be surprised." A ring was heard. "Go and see what idiot that is ringing the bell. If it's any one to see me let me know who it is before you show him in." Mrs. Holman went to see what idiot it was. She returned and reported. "It's that American who has lost his daughter, Mr. Haines his name is." "Confound Mr. Haines! What's he come humbugging about? Show him in. I'll make short work of Mr. Haines." Mr. Haines was shown in, tall and thin, Yankee writ large all over him. Uninvited, he seated himself. He crossed his legs. He balanced his hat upon his knees. He looked at Mr. Holman without speaking a word. Mr. Holman, without any show of deference, looked back at him, nor was his manner when he spoke marked by a superfluity of courtesy. For some moments the silence remained unbroken--a fact which seemed to arouse the detective's irascibility. "Is that all you have to say? If so, perhaps you will excuse me. My time happens to be of value." Mr. Haines opened his lips. "That creature has buncoed me again." "What creature?" "Private detective Stewart Trevannion." "When a man calls himself a private detective, nine times out of ten yon may safely write him down a scoundrel. The tenth time, perhaps, he is something worse."