For a moment I own that I was dismayed by this evil-looking woman's line of attack. If there be one act of grave injustice in England easier to manage than another it is this: to trump up some false charge of lunacy against a sane but unconscious person. If, in addition, you can assert that the alleged maniac is one fleeing from justice, or, worse still, consigned to some living tomb of convicted criminals like Broadmoor, you are pretty sure to get public sympathy and support on your side, for the vast majority of persons fear the insane with a wild, unreasoning kind of panic, and are only too glad to interpose the burly forms of keepers and doctors between themselves and the objects they dread. Doubtless this wretched creature knew this, for her tones were those of an absolute mistress of herself and of that most perplexing situation. Her attitude, too, suggested a consciousness of triumph, for she just looked at Camille Velasquon with a look of gravity and warning that she must be careful if she wished to have any peace or kindness hereafter, whereas for me she had nothing but hot scorn or an icy contempt. "Did you say you had other keepers with you?" I queried at length, more anxious to gain time before I showed my real hand than to elicit information. "Yes; I did. There are two assistant warders. I am the principal." "Women, I suppose?" "Both women!" "Both women! Where do they come from?" "From Broadmoor, like myself." And she turned her head in the direction of the carriage window, as though she were tired of the conversation and desired me for the rest of the time to mind my own business. Camille Velasquon now plucked me nervously by the arm. "This woman's story is a tissue of lies," she whispered. "I am no criminal and no lunatic. Why, I never set foot in England till I got off the ship on to Southampton Dock with you a few minutes ago!" "Of course you didn't," I replied in a low tone, which, luckily, the rattle of the wheels prevented that grim-looking figure in the corner making the true sense. "Don't you see that this is the plot Don Jose Casteno warned you against? Indeed, this is why I came down to meet you, to protect you. The trouble is, I don't know who has put her up to this crowning piece of impudence. If it is just some obscure enemy of Casteno or of the Order of St Bruno it's all right, I'll rescue you; but if it has some diplomatic importance, and behind this creature stands some great personage who is playing some game of European importance, it won't be so easy as it might seem. Money may have been spent like water, and, at a pinch, they may prove to be really warders sent from Broadmoor with false instructions about you, and a false scent."