She was frigid and self-possessed. He had half expected some expression of apology for the wrong she had done him, but she entirely ignored that. But that Fairfield had himself well in hand he would have openly resented the snub inflicted on him. It was Foyle who answered. "I brought Sir Ralph here. I thought his presence might be necessary." She moved across the room, and sank on a couch with a petulant frown. "Well, I suppose you have some disagreeable business to transact. Let us get it over." The superintendent knew that he was dealing with a woman entirely on her guard. Her steady grey eyes were fixed on him closely, as though she could read his thoughts. He thought he could detect a slight twitching of the slender hands that rested idly on her lap. "I want to know," he said slowly, "the meaning of the advertisement addressed to you by Robert Grell in this morning's _Daily Wire_." He could have sworn that his shot had hit, that she flinched a little as he spoke. But if so she showed no further sign. Instead, her face was all astonishment as she replied-- "I don't quite understand. What advertisement? I know nothing about Mr. Grell since he left Grosvenor Gardens. Will you explain?" Deliberately the superintendent took from his breast-pocket a copy of the _Daily Wire_, folded back at the personal column, and read: "E. £27.14.5. To-morrow. B." "That," he said, "is addressed to you. It is hardly worth while denying knowledge of it. It was found last night on a man arrested for attempted housebreaking at Mr. Grell's house. I ordered that it be sent to the paper, together with another intended for the eye of Sir Ralph Fairfield." Her interest was plainly awakened. "Then the other was for you!" she cried, turning to Fairfield. "I wondered if----" She paused with the realisation that she had admitted what she had a moment before denied. Foyle's foot pressed heavily on the toe of the baronet to warn him not to speak. "Yes, it was for Sir Ralph," he said. "That is why I brought him here. It is you, though, who hold the key to this mystery. We know that you would have sent your jewels to Grell, that you are in communication with his friends. You are young, Lady Eileen, and don't realise that you are playing with fire. Your silence can do your lover no good--it may do him and yourself harm. You have been visited by the Princess Petrovska, an adventuress not fit to touch the hem of your skirt. You are already involved. Take the advice of a man old enough to be your father, and confide in us." She had risen, and her slim form towered over the seated detective. She seemed about to resent his words, but suddenly burst into a ripple of laughter. "You would be offensive if you were not amusing, Mr. Foyle. Don't you think my help would be a little superfluous, since you know so much?" she asked with a quietness that robbed the remark of some of its bitterness. "I think you had better go now."