"But I insist that my eyes have not deceived me, and that she was in your window a few minutes ago." Again Lilla laughed. "Well, Mr. Emery, though you and I have never met before, I can’t help thinking that you are—well, just a little eccentric," she said. "You come here and declare that you have seen at my window a woman who is dead." "Ah, but is she really dead, Mrs. Braybourne?" asked the shrewd young man, who had of late been getting together an extensive legal practice in Manchester. "My dear Mr. Emery, ask yourself," Lilla replied. "I understand that the poor lady’s sister was present at the end and took a last look at her before the coffin was screwed down. Surely her sister would know her? I am, of course, in utter ignorance of the facts, But I think, before you make such foolish mistakes as you are doing, you had better inquire—don’t you?" Her argument was rather disconcerting. Charles Emery felt certain that he had seen the face of the dead woman at the window. Yet, if it were true that her sister had seen her in her coffin, then surely his eyes had deceived him. Upstairs Boyne and Ena stood together in breathless wonder at what was in progress below. Boyne knew how clever his wife was, and how, when faced with difficulties, she always became so calm and innocent. Of that he had had proof many times. Their marital relations had been such that he had long ago felt she was a super-woman in the art of deception. But here she was faced with a perilous problem, and both Ena and he knew it. They stood together, conversing in whispers. "Trust Lilla," said Boyne in a low voice. "She will wriggle out of anything. Besides, she had the tip that the fellow may have recognised you." Below the young solicitor and Lilla were still in open hostility. Emery had grown angry. The woman had accused him of an undue suspicion. "Lots of people, especially those who are spooky, believe in a sixth sense," she said. "Surely you don’t believe in it, do you, Mr. Emery? I do not. Do you really insist that in my window you have seen the face of a woman who is dead and buried? If so—well, you’ve got the sixth sense, and it would be more profitable to you to go into the Other World Combine—which, I believe, is being formed—than to practise law. Personally, I only wish I had a sixth sense. Oh, what a lot concerning other people’s affairs I should know—eh?" And she laughed lightly, as though highly amused. Emery stood in silence. She could see that he was still unconvinced. The situation was one of the most perilous they had ever faced. "To tell you the truth, Mrs. Braybourne, I’m not at all satisfied," said the young man frankly. "I feel confident that the woman’s face I saw at your window was that of Mrs. Augusta Morrison."