Peggie walked out of the room and to the car without demur or comment. But as she was about to take her seat she turned to Selwood. "Why didn't Mr. Tertius come into the room just now?" she demanded. Selwood hesitated. Until then he had thought that Peggie had heard the brief exchange of words between Barthorpe and Mr. Tertius at the door. "Didn't you hear what was said at the door when we were all coming in?" he asked suddenly, looking attentively at her. "I heard my cousin and Mr. Tertius talking, but I couldn't catch what was said," she replied. "If you did, tell me--I want to know." "Mr. Barthorpe Herapath refused to admit Mr. Tertius," said Selwood. "Refused?" she exclaimed. "Refused?" "Refused," repeated Selwood. "That's all I know." Peggie sat down and gave him an enigmatic look. "You, of course, will come back to the house when--when you've finished here?" she said. "I don't know--I suppose--really, I don't know," answered Selwood. "You see, I--I, of course, don't know exactly where I am, now. I suppose I must take my orders from--your cousin." Peggie gave him another look, more enigmatic than the other. "That's nonsense!" she said sharply. "Of course, you'll come. Do whatever it is that Barthorpe wants just now, but come on to Portman Square as soon as you've done it--I want you. Go straight home, Robson," she went on, turning to the chauffeur. Selwood turned slowly and unwillingly back to the office door as the car moved off. And as he set his foot on the first step a young man came running up the entry--not hurrying but running--and caught him up and hailed him. "Mr. Selwood?" he said, pantingly. "You'll excuse me--you're Mr. Herapath's secretary, aren't you?--I've seen you with him. I'm Mr. Triffitt, of the _Argus_--I happened to call in at the police-station just now, and they told me of what had happened here, so I rushed along. Will you tell me all about it, Mr. Selwood?--it'll be a real scoop for me--I'll hustle down to the office with it at once, and we'll have a special out in no time. And whether you know it or not, that'll help the police. Give me the facts, Mr. Selwood!" Selwood stared at the ardent collector of news; then he motioned him to follow, and led him into the hall to where Barthorpe Herapath was standing with the police-inspector. "This is a newspaper man," he said laconically, looking at Barthorpe. "Mr. Triffitt, of the _Argus_. He wants the facts of this affair." Barthorpe turned and looked the new-comer up and down. Triffitt, who had almost recovered his breath, pulled out a card and presented it with a bow. And Barthorpe suddenly seemed to form a conclusion.