“That’s the sort of horrible thing you would say,” stormed Greta. “I think you’re loathsome! I won’t do another stroke of work for you.” She ended in a passion of weak tears, and Anita Bellini did not attempt to mollify her. She knew from past experience that in an hour or two she would have a penitent message from her slave asking forgiveness for this outburst; for this was not the first time that Greta had revolted, only to come to heel at the snap of Anita’s whip. With this assurance she took her ungracious leave, and had hardly left the street before all thought of Greta was out of her mind. The Princess Anita Bellini had other matters, more weighty, to think of. There was very little for Leslie Maughan to tell to her chief, but he did not seem greatly disappointed. “We’ll leave her alone for a while. If you once start badgering these people, they build up an unbreakable alibi, and that’s bad for trade.” He looked glumly at the trunks in the corner of his room. “We’d better dispose of these,” he said. “I’ll get in a clerk to write down the inventory as you call them out.” He rang for his secretary, the girl who had taken Leslie Maughan’s place on her promotion, and, stooping before the first of the cabin trunks, he unlocked it and threw back the lid. For half an hour Leslie was lifting out articles of wearing apparel, and one little mystery was solved when she came upon a parcel of men’s clothing. They were of the ready-to-wear type, the parts roughly tacked. One of them, however, must have been fitted, for it was partly sewed, and a small tailor’s roll in a pocket of the trunk explained how Druze had avoided the embarrassment of a tailor’s fitting. She was evidently a good sewing woman, for the half-finished garment was beautifully tailored. There was nothing, however, in the first trunk that threw any light upon the mystery of her death. The second box held a surprise: it was filled with women’s clothing. “She was going to drop her disguise when she got to the United States,” Leslie concluded, and with this view Mr. Coldwell agreed. At last the second box was emptied, but again there was nothing that could afford the slightest clue. “There’s a suitcase; we only discovered it this morning; it was in the parcels office at Waterloo,” said Coldwell. He opened a cupboard and took out a crocodile skin travelling grip and put it on the table. It was locked, but suitcase locks respond to almost any key, and at the second attempt it was opened. Here the girl found such articles as she would expect an ocean traveller to carry: sponge bag, soap, a small jewel case containing a gold watch and guard, a diamond-encircled wrist watch, and a small diamond bar brooch. A silk dressing gown, a pair of slippers, and a few odds and ends completed the contents. “Nothing here,” said Leslie.