“Ah! I understand he has a great _penchant_ for female society, and that he is far from discriminating in his choice of fair companions. I believe his parents live in terror that he will one fine day make some actress or dancer Lady Wraysbury. Probably you don’t know anything about the Felthams; in my line I get a lot of information about people. They are a very pious, straight-living couple. The old man is a pillar of the Established Church, his wife is equally devout. At their London house in Eaton Place she is surrounded with parsons. His youthful lordship has certainly not taken after his parents.” “And I suppose they would be shocked beyond expression if they knew he was hanging about a married woman?” “Go off their heads, I should think,” was the detective’s reply. “But they are not likely to hear of it. They live in a very narrow set, to whom such doings don’t penetrate. They won’t know unless some scandal arises suddenly out of it.” Presently Lydon suggested that, in view of what they knew about Mrs. Edwards, otherwise Elise Makris, Wraysbury ought to be warned. How could it be done? Grewgus looked doubtful. “You see, the difficulty is that we have no evidence of her having previously blackmailed anybody. Your friend, Mr. Craig, was very vague on the point, you say. Of course, I don’t suppose they would dare to take any action if we did such a thing, wouldn’t court having their past ripped up. But if this young ass is infatuated--and it looks very like it--he wouldn’t believe much stronger evidence than it is in our power to produce.” “But you have no doubt of the character of all these people yourself?” asked Lydon, who did not perhaps quite realize the habitual caution of a man who followed Grewgus’ profession. “In my own mind, certainly not. But what we do know is of such a purely circumstantial kind that we should have great difficulty in getting the average person to agree with us. One can feel a thing without being able to prove it.” “It seems to me that we have come to a deadlock,” said Lydon in a tone of disappointment. Grewgus reluctantly admitted that it looked like it. He added more cheerfully that something might turn up at any moment. The French police were still pursuing their inquiries into the mystery of Calliard’s death, and they might still be able to connect Edwards, if not Zillah Mayhew, with that tragedy. Then there would be something to go on of a tangible nature. It was some few days after that Grewgus sought another meeting with his client. Perhaps in their last interview he had sensed a certain dissatisfaction on Lydon’s part at the slow progress of affairs.