Penelope sat very still. She felt the steely eyes of the man who had chosen his seat so carefully, fixed upon her face. “You do not connect the two affairs in any way?” she asked. “That is what we are asking ourselves,” Mr. Jacks continued. “In the absence of any definite clue, coincidences such as this are always interesting. In this case, as it happens, we can take them even a little further. We find that you, for instance, Miss Penelope Morse, a young American lady, celebrated for her wit and accomplishments, and well known in London society, were to have lunched with Mr. Hamilton Fynes on the day when he made his tragical arrival in London; we find too, curiously enough, that you were one of the party with whom Mr. Richard Vanderpole was to have dined and gone to the theatre on the night of his decease.” Penelope shivered, and half closed her eyes. “Don’t you think,” she said, “that the shock of this coincidence, as you call it, has been quite sufficient, without having you come here to remind me of it?” “Madam,” Mr. Jacks said, “I have not come here to gratify any personal curiosity. I have come here in the cause of justice. You should find me a welcome visitor, for both these men who have lost their lives were friends of yours.” “I should be very sorry indeed,” Penelope answered, “to stand in the way of justice. No one can hope more fervently than I do that the perpetrator of these deeds will be found and punished. But what I cannot understand is your coming here and reopening the subject with me. I tell you again that I have no possible information for you.” “Perhaps not,” the Inspector declared, “but, on the other hand, there are certain questions which you can answer me,--answer them, I mean, not grudgingly and as though in duty bound,--answer them intelligently, and with some apprehension of the things which lie behind.” “And what is the thing that lies behind them?” she asked. “A theory, madam,” the Inspector answered,--“no more. But in this case, unfortunately, we have not passed the stage of theories. My theory, at the present moment, is that the murderer of these two men was the same person.” “You have evidence to that effect,” she said, suddenly surprised to find that her voice had sunk to a whisper. “Very little,” Mr. Jacks admitted; “but, you see, in the case of theories one must build them brick by brick. Then if, after all, as we reach the end, the foundation was false, well, we must watch them collapse and start again.” “Supposing we leave these generalities,” Penelope remarked, “and get on with those questions which you wish to ask me. My aunt, as you may have heard, is an invalid, and although she seldom leaves her room, this is one of the afternoons when she sometimes sits here for a short time. I should not care to have her find you.”