His Royal Highness spoke a few sharp words through the telephone and then listened attentively for the lady’s answer. Anthony noticed him nod repeatedly at what he heard and a sudden look of complete amazement cross his face. “Hold on, Daphne, for a moment,” Anthony heard him say. “Miss Carruthers says she left Seabourne at three minutes past ten on Wednesday evening and that her train arrived at Victoria at a quarter past eleven.” His voice contained a note of triumph that he made no attempt to conceal. “You will notice, Mr. Bathurst, that she had no other assignation.” “I notice that she says she hadn’t,” replied that gentleman, “but go on.” “She tells me that she arrived at her home in Lexham Gardens, Kensington, at twenty-five minutes to twelve. She has occupied a flat there for some time now. Yesterday evening she had been to the theatre and reached home about the same time as the previous evening. As she entered she states that she heard her telephone ringing. Before she could get into the room to answer it the ringing ceased and was not again repeated. Being very tired and attaching no particular importance to it, she didn’t trouble to make inquiries, she says, but went straight to bed. Early this morning the Police called with the fantastic story (to her, of course) that Daphne Carruthers had been found murdered in a dental surgeon’s operating room at Seabourne. Naturally she was able to laugh at their story and to convince them that they were at that moment actually talking to the supposedly murdered girl and that the story to which she was listening must be all wrong somewhere. They’ve informed the Police at this end, she says, of the dreadful mistake that has been made. She ’phoned me to find out if possible how the ghastly error could have occurred and also to allay any fears that I might have had on her behalf.” He coughed. “She’s coming straight down here by the first fast train.” “She can’t account in any way for the mistake, then?” queried Anthony. The Crown Prince shook his head gravely. “No—she’s as much in the dark, she tells me, as the Police themselves.” “Did she tell you what time it was when the Police up the other end sent the news down here? I mean the news that the first idea was all wrong—that Daphne Carruthers was alive and that the murdered girl had still to be identified.” “‘Early this morning,’ was the phrase she used.” “H’m!” rejoined Anthony. “I wonder why—how about your theory of the blackmailer—it won’t quite answer now, will it?” He broke off abruptly as this new aspect of the case came home to him. His Royal Highness shook his head again. “It won’t—what shall we do?” “Do you still want me to take the case?”