Daphne turned upon her questioner two round eyes of beautiful astonishment. “I should very much like to be in a position to do so,” she exclaimed. “I am just as eager to know as you yourself are. Those two questions are just the two that I can’t answer,” she supplemented. “When was this suit-case last in your possession?” demanded Bannister. “On Wednesday evening,” she replied, “when I was on the point of leaving the ‘Cassandra.’ I left the hotel about twenty minutes to ten in order to catch the ten-three from the station. But as I had a hand-bag and two novels to carry, I left my suit-case to be forwarded to my home address. I labelled it—just as you see it now—and left appropriate instructions at the ‘Cassandra.’ It’s my usual practice if I’m travelling alone—I just hate to be lumbered up with heaps of things to carry.” “Where did you last actually _see_ it?” queried Bannister with a _soupçon_ of impatience. Daphne puckered her brows. “One of the hotel porters took it downstairs for me—I tipped him—I didn’t see it again after he’d taken it from my room.” “Pardon me a moment, Inspector,” intervened Anthony. “I should like to ask Miss Carruthers a question. Are the labels as you see them now tied in exactly the same manner and in exactly the same positions as you yourself tied and placed them?” “Absolutely,” replied the lady, “one at each end of the handle.” “There’s only one explanation that will fit the case,” broke in Alexis of Clorania, hoarsely. “The suit-case was stolen by this other girl—whoever she is—for some malicious motive that hasn’t yet been fathomed—it’s all part of the same dark plot—commencing with the——” He caught a warning glance from Anthony and summarily stopped. Bannister broke in sharply. “I beg to differ. There’s more than one possible explanation, Your Royal Highness, come to that. Besides the possibility of the suit-case having been stolen by the dead lady—there’s also the rather likely possibility of an exchange of luggage having been effected _unintentionally_. We shall have to find out what the procedure is with regard to luggage at the ‘Cassandra.’ The exchange may even have taken place in some way at Seabourne Station and it may have been quite an innocent one.” “The dead girl came by car, Inspector,” ventured Anthony. “True—but from where? She may have met the car at the station—asked a porter there to put her suit-case in for her—and the man may have picked up Miss Carruthers’ by mistake—waiting on the platform somewhere, ready to be despatched to town.” Bannister paused—then went on again directly. “Very likely the dead girl’s suit-case is still kicking its heels on the platform at Seabourne, for all we know to the contrary.” “There is yet another likely possibility it seems to me,” said Anthony, quietly. “What’s that, Mr. Bathurst?” “That the suit-case _was stolen by the murderer_.” Bannister contemplated the suggestion for a moment or two. “For what reason?”