“Which will be the saving of him if things go wrong with her,” said Fayre. “I wish this next week were over.” Grey nodded. “So do I, from our point of view as well as his. If Lady Kean dies Sir Edward will do one of two things: try to lose himself in work or chuck everything. It’s a toss-up. If he were to throw up the sponge, I don’t know what we should do. Even with the little we’ve got now, Kean might get Leslie off on insufficient evidence, but there’s not another man at the Bar who could put it through. We’re still in an uncommonly tight corner.” In the afternoon Fayre called on Kean and literally forced him into the open air. The two men walked across the Park as far as Bayswater. Once there, however, Kean fell into a panic and, refusing Fayre’s offer to ring up his house at the nearest public telephone, jumped into a taxi and hurried home. Fayre turned back and strolled quietly along the Serpentine in the direction of Hyde Park Corner. He had not gone far when his eye fell on the figure of a woman walking just ahead of him. Something in the purposeful swing of her walk and the carriage of her erect figure struck him as familiar and he quickened his steps and was soon abreast of her. She turned at the sound of his voice. “Mr. Fayre! I was just thinking of you, curiously enough, and wishing I had asked you for your address the other day when we met in the train.” Fayre turned to her with a smile. “If I were a more conceited man I should feel flattered, but I’m afraid you’ve got some annoyingly good reason for wishing to see me. Is there anything I can do?” “It is only that you asked me once whether I could tell you anything about my sister’s associates and I wondered if you would care to go through some papers of hers which have only just come into my possession. They have been in a dispatch-box at her bank all this time and were handed over to me yesterday. I went through them cursorily and they seem to consist mostly of business papers, but there are one or two letters and photographs which might give you some hint as to the set she was moving in. They convey nothing to me, but you may know something about these people.” “It is more than good of you . . .” began Fayre. “Nonsense, Mr. Fayre. I am as anxious to find out who killed my poor sister as you are to clear John Leslie and it struck me that two heads are better than one. Also, you may have arrived at certain conclusions already and these letters may throw some light on them. I warn you that there was nothing private, with the exception of certain letters which I have already destroyed or disposed of. They concerned only my sister and could have been of no use to you whatever, but I prefer to deal frankly with you.”