Her cigarette had gone out. She opened her bag with an impatient tug and searched. “Matches? Never mind.” There was a letter in the bag; she tore a strip from the top and, bending, lit the paper at the fire. “Who is Leslie Maughan?” She was glancing at the signature which footed the letter. “Leslie Maughan! I don’t know him. Why?” Anita crumpled the paper into a ball. “Leslie Maughan would like to see me on a personal matter.” Anita invented the stilted and supercilious accent which she supposed the writer of the letter might assume. “And Leslie Maughan will be glad to know what hour will be convenient for me to see him. He is an inventor or a borrower of money, or he has an expedition to the Cocos Islands that he would like me to finance. To the devil with Leslie Maughan!” CHAPTER II. THE GIRL DETECTIVE Druze had come in noiselessly at the door and stood, hand clasping hand. His face was strangely pale; as he spoke, his right cheek twitched spasmodically. “Yes?” “Will your ladyship see Miss Leslie Maughan?” “Miss!” exclaimed Anita, as Jane Raytham rose. “Miss Leslie Maughan of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard?” Lady Raytham put out her hand and gripped the back of the chair; her face was bloodless; she opened her mouth to speak, but no word came. Greta was staring at the big woman, but Princess Anita Bellini had no eyes but for the pale butler. “I will see her--in the small drawing room, Druze. Excuse me.” She swept out of the room and pulled the door behind her until Druze had disappeared round the lower landing. By her right hand was the door of her own room, and she entered swiftly and noiselessly, switching on the lights as she closed the door. She stared into the mirror. Ghastly! That white, drawn face of hers carried confession. Had she been betrayed? Had they fulfilled their threat? Pulling out a drawer of her dressing table, she fumbled for and found a little pot of rouge and with a quick, deft hand brought an unaccustomed bloom to her cheeks. Another glance at her face in the glass and she went out and sailed down the stairs, a smile on her lips, and in her heart despair. All the lights were lit in the little drawing room, and her first emotion was one of surprise and relief. She had not known there were women detectives at Scotland Yard, but she could imagine them as hard-faced, sour creatures in ready-made clothes.