There was a tense and painful silence. “Is that all?” she asked. “All you have to tell me?” “You did not need telling, I think,” he said, a little bitterly. “No.” She lit another cigarette; the flame of the match quivered unsteadily. “You’re very unfortunate, Peter Dawlish.” She blew out the match with deliberation and put it carefully in her saucer by the side of the sodden cigarette. “You knew nothing about Druze, of course, or you would have told me. When did you say your father disinherited you?” “The day before I went to prison.” She considered this. “Tell me, Peter! You don’t mind my calling you Peter? I feel rather sisterly toward you just now. What was the relationship between your father and mother? Cordial?” He shook his head. “No, they were never cordial; they were polite.” She bit her lip, looking at him absently. “Did you ever see the Princess Bellini at your father’s house?” “Only once,” he replied. “Father disliked her----” “She was a sort of aunt, wasn’t she?” Leslie interrupted. “I’ve never exactly fathomed the relationship. I’ve always understood that the Princess Bellini’s brother married my mother’s sister.” She rose from the table abruptly, for no apparent reason. “Peter Dawlish,” she said, and her voice shook a little in spite of her assumption of banter, “if you were cursed with my intense curiosity you might be a very much happier man.” “What do you mean?” he asked. “I’ll tell you--some day. And now let us get back to our muttons; and our muttons for the moment is poor Elizabeth. The only difficulty in the way is Mrs. Inglethorne. As a loving mother, she may very well object to her child being taken from her. Obviously I cannot use the same argument as you have used. If she is a fence and a lawbreaker, it is my duty to inform Mr. Coldwell and have her arrested. If she isn’t a lawbreaker, we shall have to get after her from another angle. That sounds terribly businesslike. I think I’ll go back with you to Severall Street and see Mrs. Inglethorne myself. She may be amenable to reason.” CHAPTER XIV. AN ARREST They went by bus to the southern end of Westminster Bridge and walked along York Road together. Just before they reached Severall Street they saw a small motor truck turn into the main road, and mechanically, Leslie, who had a weakness for such mental registrations, turned her head to note the number. It was a favourite trick of hers to carry fifty or sixty motor-car numbers in her head and jot them down at the close of the day--a practice into which Mr. Coldwell had initiated her. As she looked round she heard: “Lady!” A shrill voice called her. “Who was that?” she asked, but Peter had not heard. They reached the house and he opened the door and called Mrs. Inglethorne, but it was one of the children who answered. “Mother’s gone out. Her and Elizabeth.” Sometimes the woman took the child with her when she went shopping, Peter explained.