"Emery—that solicitor in Manchester! He—he—knows me as—as Augusta Morrison—the dead woman!" "And did he see you?" cried Boyne in a low, hoarse voice. "Are you certain?" "Well—no—I—I’m not absolutely certain. He was looking up at the house, and he’s coming here." At that second the front door electric bell rang. All three started. "Why is he here?" asked Lilla. "Are inquiries already on foot?" "If they are, then our game is up," declared Ena. "You must receive him, Lilla, but you must deny all knowledge of me. You know nothing of Augusta Morrison." "But he may call at Upper Brook Street," said Boyne quickly. "You must not return there." "Did he recognise me? That’s the question," asked Ena, still pale to the lips. A second later the man entered with a card upon his salver—the card of the Manchester solicitor, Mr. Emery. "Oh!" exclaimed Lilla, taking it up. "Oh, yes—show him up." Then as soon as the man had left, Ena slipped upstairs into one of the bedrooms to hide, in company with Bernard Boyne. When the young Manchester solicitor was ushered in, he found the tea-things cleared—which had been effected several minutes before—and Lilla rose to greet him. "I believe you are Mrs. Braybourne," he said, bowing. "My name is Emery. I am the solicitor who effected a policy on the life of the late Mrs. Augusta Morrison in your favour. My client, I hear, with much regret, has died, and I understand from the company that you have put in your claim." Mrs. Braybourne admitted that it was so, and offered her visitor a seat. "I came this morning from Manchester, in order to consult with your solicitor," he went on. "Mrs. Morrison was a personal friend of mine, and she told me that she had, since her husband’s death, discovered that she was indebted to Mr. Braybourne, hence her insurance on the assignment of the policy." "It came as a great surprise to me," said Lilla, with her innate cleverness. "I had not the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Morrison, though I met her husband several times, years ago. My late husband was a friend of his." "So she told me when we were together at Llandudno," Emery said. "It was certainly very generous of her to try and make reparation for some wrong which her husband did to Mr. Braybourne. But I confess I am somewhat surprised." "At what?" asked the pseudo widow. "Well—she gave me the impression that you were a person of limited means. But that does not appear so," he said, glancing around the luxurious little apartment. Lilla smiled quite calmly. She was uncertain whether her very unwelcome visitor had recognised Ena through the window as his client, the false Augusta Morrison. "Of course, I have no idea what Mrs. Morrison told you concerning myself. I only know that my late husband was interested in certain business transactions with Mr. Morrison up in Scotland," she said, with an air of ignorance.