"It does seem strange," said Shawe, reflectively. "Humph! I wonder if Perry Toat is right after all, and if this alibi--a very convincing one, I must say--is a faked affair. Audrey"--he turned earnestly towards the girl--"say nothing of this to anyone." "Will you tell Miss Toat?" "Yes, I shall certainly do that. But, after all, both you and the still-room clock may be right. It only means that Madame waited twenty minutes or so talking to her husband instead of coming down at once." "But if she came at once--" "Then the matter will have to be looked into. I shall ask Miss Toat to question Badoura and Eddy Vail, who noticed the time. They may be able to say how long Madame Coralie remained in the still-room. But, my dear, it is all a mere theory--" "And one that may prove to be true. Really, Ralph"--Audrey spoke with a flush on her face--"you don't seem anxious to learn the truth." "I am in one way, and not in another. I remember that anonymous letter." "I don't care what the letter says. The person who wrote it is evidently concerned in the death of my poor mother, and is afraid lest he or she should be caught." "There may be some truth in that," admitted Shawe. "However, you had better leave the matter in my hands. I shall tell Perry Toat what you say about the difference in time, always supposing that Madame Coralie did not linger in the still-room. When I hear of anything definite likely to supply a clue I shall let you know." "You have let me know very little hitherto," said Audrey, bitterly. "My darling"--he took her hands and looked into her eyes--"surely you are not dissatisfied with me?" "I am in a way," she admitted, blushing guiltily. "I am so anxious to learn the truth and revenge my mother. If you won't search, I shall search myself." Shawe could do nothing in the face of this determination but agree. He scribbled Perry Toat's address on his card and gave it to the girl. Audrey slipped it into the dingy envelope which held the anonymous letter, with the intention of calling on the detective whenever she could. "If you go on with the matter I shall help you to the best of my ability," he said earnestly, as she turned away. "Don't think that I do not desire your wish to be gratified. I only want you to be happy." "I won't be happy until I learn who murdered my dear mother," said the girl, obstinately; then she took his arm, and they walked across to the gate near the Palace. "But I am glad that you will help me. All I ask is that you will let me assist you." "You shall go to Perry Tat yourself and take an immediate hand in the game we are playing," said the barrister, decidedly, "as I see that in no other way will you be satisfied. And now let me see you home." "Don't come too far with me, dear. My father may have risen by this time, and if he meets you there will be trouble."