"How utterly ridiculous!" declared the clever adventuress. "If Mrs. Morrison’s sister and other relatives saw her at the nursing home before and after her death they must have recognised her. How therefore, can the lady possibly be alive? It’s silly to imagine such a thing!" "Well," he asked, "who first informed you that the late Mrs. Morrison had assigned her life policy to you?" "A man I know named May, who was a friend of my husband and of the late Mr. Morrison." "And how did he know, pray?" "How can I tell? He knew Mrs. Morrison, I believe, and he used to stay at her house-parties at Carsphairn. Possibly she might have told him." "When did you see him?" "I haven’t seen him lately," she replied quickly, a fiction ready to her lips. "He rang me up about three days after Mrs. Morrison’s death and told me of the sad event, of which I, of course, was in complete ignorance. Then he told me that she had insured her life for my benefit. I asked him how he knew that; but he only laughed and said that he knew, and would send, me particulars of the assignment of the policy, and that I had better take steps at once to establish my claim—which naturally I did, after receiving a few notes of the assignment. I made out a full account of my late husband’s dealings with Mr. Morrison—how he had very nearly brought us to ruin—and placed them with the notes of the assignment in the hands of my solicitor, who, I suppose, in due course approached the insurance company. Previously, however, I had heard of the fact from another source—a solicitor—as I have already told you." "H’m!" Emery grunted. Then, after a pause, he asked: "Do you happen to know a certain lady living in Upper Brook Street named Mrs. Pollen?" "Pollen? Pollen?" repeated Lilla. "The name sounds familiar. She’s a society hostess—a woman who often has her photograph in the picture papers, isn’t she?" she asked, with well-affected ignorance. "I think not. I’ve never seen her portrait in the papers. She was, however, a friend of Mrs. Morrison." "I’m afraid I know nothing of Mrs. Morrison’s friends. My husband knew some of them, of course. And I have to thank Morrison for bringing ruin to us. He made huge profits over these business deals and bought Carsphairn, while my husband went under and would have been down and out had it not been for my family, who assisted him on his legs again." "Well, in any case, you seem to live in very easy circumstances to-day, Mrs. Braybourne," he remarked, glancing around the luxurious room. "Oh, I don’t know," Lilla laughed lightly. "In London we put all the goods in the window—you don’t up in Lancashire." An awkward pause ensued. "Well, Mrs. Braybourne," he said at last, "I cannot conceal from myself that there are certain peculiar circumstances which must be cleared up." "About what?" she asked in pretended innocence.