“In my line of business we often have to deal with persons in high places, some of whom are very susceptible, not to say inflammable. When you come across a person of this description--and there are plenty of them abroad--it is astonishing what influence a pretty and clever woman can wield. And her worst enemy must admit that Zillah is both.” It seemed quite a straightforward sort of statement. Lydon, in spite of his suspicions, was bound to admit as much. He tried to lead the financier to talk further on the topic, but obviously he did not wish to pursue it. Perhaps he felt he had said enough. At half-past two they separated. There was just time enough to walk briskly to Coutts, and pay in the thousand pounds. Leonard was busy at the office till it was time for him to keep his appointment in Craven Street with Mr. Grewgus. He reached the offices of the private inquiry agent a few minutes past the hour. Mr. Grewgus himself was standing in the outer room apparently used by his staff. But there was nobody there except himself, a fact which he explained to his new client. “I am alone, Mr. Lydon; I never keep my staff after the stroke of six. Of course I don’t restrict myself to the time-table. I am at the disposal of a client at almost any hour.” Lydon rather liked the look of him. He was a tall, thin-faced man with rather hatchet features, clean-shaven. His manners were suave and courteous, his eyes keen, his expression was indicative of alert mentality. He led the way into his own apartment, and, after placing a chair for the young man, invited him to state his business. Leonard told him the story as the reader already knows it. Grewgus listened without making any comment or interruption, but it was easy to see his trained intelligence grasped every detail. When Lydon was finished, he spoke: “I understand that you wish me to find out all I can about this man, Howard Stormont, the nature of his business, etcetera, etcetera. Secondly, you want me to do the same thing with regard to the young woman, Zillah Mayhew, and this will necessarily involve her uncle, John Whitehouse, whom you say lives at 18 Ashstead Mansions, Sloane Square.” Leonard intimated that the detective had accurately comprehended his requirements. “You do not know the address of Stormont’s offices, only that they are somewhere in London. You have looked him up in the directory, as a matter of course? You have, and can’t locate him. Trading no doubt under another name. Nothing actually suspicious in that by itself, of course, but it is a little peculiar he should be so exceedingly reticent on the subject.” He paused a minute or two to digest things before resuming: “Well, Mr. Lydon, I can leave Stormont to one of my lieutenants; I have no doubt he can soon be run to earth. The young lady will, I am sure, prove the more difficult job of the two. You say she is starting or has started for Paris?”