Mr. Flexen did not resent his tone. Indeed, before he could speak, it flashed on him that if she had done so, and Justice was depending on him himself to bring her to it, it was depending on a somewhat frail reed. He liked Mr. Manley for his readiness to fight for her cause. He laughed gently and said: "I wasn't thinking so. I was only wondering." Then his eyes on Mr. Manley's face turned very keen, and he said: "I believe you know a good deal more about the affair than I do, if you liked to speak." It seemed to him that for a moment Mr. Manley's desire to make himself valued struggled with his desire to be accurate. Then the young man shook his head and said in a tone of surprise: "But what nonsense! You know so much more about it than I do. Why, you must have all the threads in your hands by now. I never even dreamt of the _Daily Wire's_ mysterious woman." "Not quite all--yet. But they're coming all right," said Mr. Flexen, with a confidence he was far from feeling. James Hutchings, coming into the room to fetch cigarettes for Olivia, interrupted them. "I'm glad to see you back again, Hutchings," said Mr. Manley in a tone of hearty congratulation. "Your going away for a trifle after all the years you've been here was a silly business." "Thank you, sir," said Hutchings gratefully. When Hutchings had gone, Mr. Flexen said: "It's all very well your talking, but it was you who suggested that Lady Loudwater was a woman of strong primitive emotions with a strain of Italian blood in her." "I never suggested for a moment that she was a woman of _primitive_ emotions," Mr. Manley protested with some vehemence. "But the emotions of all women are primitive," said Mr. Flexen. "Not the emotion excited in them by beauty," said Mr. Manley with chivalrous warmth. "And, hang it all! Does she look like a woman to commit murder?" "Not on her own account, certainly," said Mr. Flexen. "And on whose account should she commit murder?" cried Mr. Manley. Mr. Flexen shrugged his shoulders. "I said you knew ten times as much about the business as I do," said Mr. Manley in a tone of triumph. CHAPTER XIV Mr. Flexen awoke next morning hopeful of news of the mysterious woman. But the letters addressed to him at the Castle and those brought over from the office of the Chief Constable at Low Wycombe brought none. After breakfast, still hopeful, he telephoned to Scotland Yard. No information had reached it.