At the instant of her entrance Labar was engaged with his well-fed stenographer. She had reached the table he was using, and one hand rested lightly upon it, ere he was able to give her any attention. "Won't you sit down? Excuse me for one moment, will you?" he said, without lifting his eyes from the paper he was scrutinising, as he leaned over the shorthand writer, his finger following a phrase. "That's it. 'Mr. Vintner, the butler and myself always look round the house the last thing at night to make sure that the fastenings are safe and the burglar alarms in order. We always do it even if we know that Mr. Gertstein or his secretary has----'" She studied Labar with some interest. He bore no obvious trace of his profession--no good detective ever does. He was a clean-cut specimen of the ordinary business man. He was youngish-looking, perhaps thirty or thereabouts, and his voice was that of a cultivated man. In the neighbourhood of six feet tall, his well-tailored suit could not conceal the broad shoulders and lean flanks of a man used to athletic exercises. There was a suspicion of aggression in his chin she thought. He looked efficient and he had poise. Then he glanced up and his eyes met hers squarely. A flicker, it might have been of astonishment, crossed his face, only to be instantly suppressed. She met his look with sedate indifference, and two little vertical lines wrinkled his brow as he studied her. Suddenly his face cleared. He smiled--the frank, open smile of a boy. "I'll take any statement from this lady, myself, Green," he said. "You get back to the station and get on with your transcription. I want that all through by to-night." The fat stenographer collected his papers and left. Labar's fingers fiddled idly on the table. "You are Miss Noelson?" he asked. She nodded. "That is my name." "I understand that you have been away to Hampshire with Mrs. Gertstein, and only returned this morning." In his formal wearied tone she was quick to catch something--it might have been imagination, or again it might have been intuition--the slightest inflection of menace. "I got back by car this morning--yes. There were certain shopping errands that Mrs. Gertstein wished me to do." "Huh. So it is not likely that you can help us much with this?" The girl spread her hands in an eloquent gesture of dissent. He noticed that she wore no rings. "It is an absolute mystery to me--a mystery and a very great shock." "Yes, of course. It would be a shock," he returned as one engaging in polite conversation only to pass the time. "How long have you been with Mrs. Gertstein?" "About six or seven months." "That all? Did you know the Gertstein people well before?"