On arriving at Wraybridge, Torry dispensed with a fly, as he had so much to think about in connection with this very puzzling case that he concluded to walk. The distance from the railway station was considerable, and it took quite half an hour for Torry, plump and short-winded, to walk to Wray House. At the great iron gates he found a telegraph boy, just about to mount his bicycle on the return journey to the office. In a moment Torry's thoughts flew back to Leighbourne's demeanour, and he spoke at once to the telegraph boy. "Hullo, my young friend!" said he, artfully. "Do you know if there is a lady called Hargone living hereabouts?" The boy grinned and pointed to the gates. "She lives inside there," he said. "I've just taken a telegram to her." "That's queer!" replied Torry with a chuckle. "You're a smart lad; here's a shilling for you." "Thankee, sir," said the boy jubilantly, and mounting his bicycle went off in a cloud of dust. "Ah!" thought the detective as he walked up to the mansion, "so you have been forewarned, have you, Miss Hargone? That young rascal is smarter than I thought. I should have seen you first. Well, miss, we'll see who is the sharper--you or I." Torry had not the same difficulty in entering the house as on the previous occasion, for the footman, knowing that he was the detective in charge of the Grent murder case, received him with respect and awe. He showed him into the same pleasant room in which he had conversed with Donna Maria, and took his card to Miss Hargone. In a short time that lady, suspiciously calm and alarmingly sweet, made her appearance, and welcomed Torry with much cordiality. This, as the sagacious detective guessed, was the effect of the telegram, which had advised her of his visit and probable questions. Miss Hargone had been forewarned; consequently, to Torry's grim amusement, she was forearmed. "Good day, Mr. Torry," said she glibly. "I hope you have come to tell us that the assassin of poor Mr. Grent has been found." "Well, no, miss," replied Torry, with feigned simplicity. "I came down to ask if you knew anything about it. That is, do you know anyone whom Mr. Grent regarded as his enemy?" "I, sir?" cried Lydia indignantly, but with a slight tremour in her voice. "How can I possibly know such a thing? I was not in Mr. Grent's confidence." "Yet you knew him well enough to visit him at his chambers in Duke-street." Lydia's eyes flashed. "How dare you! how dare you!" she gasped. "Do you come here to blacken my character?" "I come here to ask you why you visited Mr. Grent on the Saturday of his death." "I did not! I deny that I visited him! "Spare me these denials," said Torry contemptuously. "You went to Duke-street veiled, and thought to escape recognition; but that silver ring on your finger was recognised." "This ring?" said Lydia, with a look of surprise, "Ah! now I see it all." "All what?" asked Torry, wondering at her composure.