I repeated what Masini had told me, and I told him about the telephone message. "It was a woman. You are quite sure it was a woman?" "Quite certain." He went to the telephone. "There is a directory here, I see; did you touch it?" "No." "It wasn't open?" "It was just as you see it now." He took a piece of paper and made one or two notes. "I imagine that particular call would be difficult to trace," he said. "Duke's Mansions has a number, and from the office in the building the particular flat required is switched on. There must have been scores of calls during the evening. I don't remember anything particular about Arthur Bridwell's parliamentary career, do you?" "No, beyond the fact that he is Member for one of the divisions of Sussex." Quarles looked slowly round the room. "A bag," he mused; "one of those small chain or leather affairs which women carry, I suppose; a purse in it, a handkerchief, perhaps a letter or two. Bridwell would see it in all probability after the lady had left, and he would--he would put it on a side table or slip it into a drawer out of the way. Shall we just have Masini in and ask him a question or two?" Instead of questioning the Italian the professor got him to repeat the story as he had told it to me. It was exactly the same account. "You know nothing about these two visitors?" "Nothing, signore. I had never seen them before, but I should know them again." "No names were mentioned in your presence?" "No." "Have you ever taken parcels to this Mr. Fisher before?" asked Quarles. "Never." "Was the parcel hard; something of metal or leather?" "Oh, no, signore; it was papers only." "And you saw Mr. Fisher?" "Yes." "What was he like? Was he English?" Masini said he was, and gave a description which might have fitted any ten men out of the first dozen encountered in the street. He also described the two visitors, but the portraits drawn were not startling. "What did Mr. Fisher say when you gave him the packet? What were his exact words, I mean?" "He said: 'All right, tell Mr. Bridwell I shall start at once'." "How long have you been in Mr. Bridwell's service?" "Three years," was the answer. "He was traveling in Italy, and I was a waiter in an hotel at Pisa. He liked me and made me an offer, and I became his servant. I have traveled much with him in all parts of Europe." "Are you sure you never saw either of the men who dined here to-night while you were traveling with your master in Italy?" "I am sure, but on oath--it would be difficult to take an oath. His friends were of a different kind. My master was writing a book on Italy; he is still at work on it. Ah, signore, I should say he was at work on it. Shall I show you his papers in the other room?" The voluminous manuscripts proved that Bridwell was engaged upon a monumental work dealing with the Italian Renaissance.