“Druze was illiterate, but, like all illiterate people, had acquired a certain form of culture and was very clever to conceal this misfortune. I think, in fact I know, she had the schooling of an average child, but she was just incapable of learning. The Council schools and even the public schools are full of people like that, of girls and boys familiar with the most obscure sciences who have never mastered these elementary arts.” Leslie thought quickly. “Her signature was on the passport?” “I wrote it,” said the surprising woman. “She told me she wanted to go across to France for a week-end trip and asked me if I would sign the passport form. That was only a few weeks ago, so it is fresh in my mind. Now tell me what I am to do? The police will come to me, and I am prepared to tell them the truth, though I cannot see how I can help them.” “The whole truth?” asked Leslie significantly. Jane Raytham looked at the girl for a long time before she answered. “As much as I’ve told you--not as much as you guess,” she said, in her even voice. Leslie carried her cup of coffee to the desk. “Would you like me to write down the gist of what you have said, and sign the statement?” she asked. “That might save you an awful lot of trouble.” Jane hesitated. “Is it necessary? I suppose it is,” she said. “Yes, if you would be so kind.” For ten minutes she watched the girl as her pen flew over the paper, and took the pages from her as they were written. “You have put my case more cleverly than I could have put it myself,” she said with a little smile. “I almost think you’re sympathetic.” “You don’t know how sympathetic I am,” said Leslie, rising from her chair to make way for the other. Lady Raytham sat down, read the last sheet again, and had dipped her pen in the ink, when the sound of voices came from outside the door. It was Lucretia’s raised protest, and a deeper voice, which Leslie instantly recognized, and, running to the door, threw it open. The Princess Anita Bellini stood on the landing, glaring through her monocle at the defiant Lucretia. “You can’t come in--Miss Maughan’s engaged,” she was saying. “I don’t care if you’re a princess or if you’re the Queen of Sheba. When Miss Maughan’s engaged, nobody can----!” “That will do, Lucretia. Come in, Princess.” The big woman strode into the apartment without a word of thanks, not even deigning to look at the defiant maid. “Where is----” she began, and then she saw Lady Raytham at the desk. “What are you writing, Jane?” she demanded loudly. “You’re not being such a fool as to make a statement to the police, are you?” “Lady Raytham is merely telling me as much as I already know,” said Leslie. “Jane, you must not sign it. I forbid it!” There was a tremor of anger in the hard voice, and, looking at the woman, Leslie saw how deeply the tragedy must have affected her. She seemed ten years older. The big slit of a mouth was turned down at the ends, the eyes red and inflamed.