'There's no need to be so cautious and mysterious. This lady is a friend of mine. She knows all about it. I asked her to come. I'm Mrs Elmer Ford. I came here directly I got your letter. I think you're the lowest sort of scoundrel that ever managed to keep out of gaol, but that needn't make any difference just now. We're here to talk business, Mr Fisher, so we may as well begin.' I was getting tired of being taken for Smooth Sam. 'I am not Smooth Sam Fisher.' I turned to the automobile. 'Will you identify me, Mrs Drassilis?' She was regarding me with wide-open eyes. 'What on earth are you doing down here? I have been trying everywhere to find you, but nobody--' Mrs Ford interrupted her. She gave me the impression of being a woman who wanted a good deal of the conversation, and who did not care how she got it. In a conversational sense she thugged Mrs Drassilis at this point, or rather she swept over her like some tidal wave, blotting her out. 'Oh,' she said fixing her brown eyes, less scornful now but still imperious, on mine. 'I must apologize. I have made a mistake. I took you for a low villain of the name of Sam Fisher. I hope you will forgive me. I was to have met him at this exact spot just about this time, by appointment, so, seeing you here, I mistook you for him.' 'If I might have a word with you alone?' I said. Mrs Ford had a short way with people. In matters concerning her own wishes, she took their acquiescence for granted. 'Drive on up to the house, Jarvis,' she said, and Mrs Drassilis was whirled away round the curve of the drive before she knew what had happened to her. 'Well?' 'My name is Burns,' I said. 'Now I understand,' she said. 'I know who you are now.' She paused, and I was expecting her to fawn upon me for my gallant service in her cause, when she resumed in quite a different strain. 'I can't think what you can have been about, Mr Burns, not to have been able to do what Cynthia asked you. Surely in all these weeks and months.... And then, after all, to have let this Fisher scoundrel steal him away from under your nose...!' She gave me a fleeting glance of unfathomable scorn. And when I thought of all the sufferings I had gone through that term owing to her repulsive son and, indirectly, for her sake, I felt that the time had come to speak out. 'May I describe the way in which I allowed your son to be stolen away from under my nose?' I said. And in well-chosen words, I sketched the outline of what had happened. I did not omit to lay stress on the fact that the Nugget's departure with the enemy was entirely voluntary. She heard me out in silence. 'That was too bad of Oggie,' she said tolerantly, when I had ceased dramatically on the climax of my tale. As a comment it seemed to me inadequate. 'Oggie was always high-spirited,' she went on. 'No doubt you have noticed that?' 'A little.'