‘Very simply. I went that Monday to Hunt’s shoe shop in Piccadilly and there I bought a pair of shoes. I had them carefully fitted, and was pleased with them. The shopman gave me a card with their number, in case I should want to replace them. I took them with me, as I was hurrying to catch the 3.25 train from St Pancras. I had to call at a shop in Regent Street, and I walked there. But as I stepped off the footpath to cross the street, a lorry I hadn’t seen came quickly up, and I had to jump back out of its way. I was startled, and I unfortunately dropped the shoes. As luck would have it they were run over by the lorry. A hawker picked them up and returned them, but one was badly torn, so, as they were no further use to me, I made him a present of them. That left me without any, so I decided to replace them. I noticed another of Messrs Hunt’s shops close by, and I went in and asked for shoes of the number on the card. That saved me from a troublesome refitting. By the time my purchase was complete I was late for my train. I therefore waited till the 5.15. Does that make the matter clear?’ Daunt was relieved, but somewhat puzzled by what he had heard. Unquestionably, Austin’s explanation was plausible, and he could see no reason why it should not be true. If the hawker who got the shoes could be found it would set this part of the matter at rest, but Daunt feared he would be untraceable. He felt doubtful and dissatisfied in his mind about the whole affair, but he saw that Austin’s statements provided a line of defence, though whether the best available he was not yet certain. Still turning the idea over in his mind he went down the next Saturday to Halford, to spend, on the earnest invitation of Lois, the weekend with the Drews. CHAPTER X. A Woman’s Wit After dinner on that Saturday evening, Lois Drew had a long conversation with her cousin, James Daunt. She waited until he was seated in the most comfortable chair in the drawing-room with his cigar well under way, and then she spoke of the subject next her heart. ‘Tell me, Jimmy,’ she begged, ‘just what you _really_ think. I want to understand exactly what we have to meet.’ He told her. Directly and without any attempt to gloss over the uglier facts, he told her all he knew. She listened in silence for the most part, but occasionally interjected shrewd, pertinent questions. Jimmy, who knew and respected his cousin’s intellect, yet marvelled at her grip, her power of letting go irrelevant details, and the unhesitating way in which she went straight to the essential heart of the various points. When he had finished she remained silent for a considerable time.