“No, I don’t. You mustn’t catch up my words like that. All I said was that, if he had been murdered, he wouldn’t be living in a house, and so a search warrant wouldn’t be any use to you. You don’t really want a warrant at all. You don’t even want the police. All you have to do is to go prowling round the country, poking into any shadowy-looking hole you see with the point of your umbrella until you come across his body.” The interview was beginning to tire Lord Manton. He was not accustomed to being bullied by handsome girls, and he did not like it. “Perhaps you’d like to start at once,” he said politely. “It’s impossible,” she said, “for me to search the country by myself.” “Not at all. Nothing is impossible for a young lady of your energy. Start with the wood behind this house; it’s very thick in parts, quite a likely spot for a corpse; and come in here for lunch when you’ve finished.” “Give me a written order to the police,” said Miss Blow, “commanding them to aid me in my search.” “It wouldn’t be the least use to you, I assure you. You’ve no idea what independent people the police are. An order from me would simply put their backs up and make them determined not to help you.” “Give me the order, and I’ll see that they execute it.” “My dear Miss Blow, I can’t, I really can’t. Try the Chief Secretary. You’ll find him in his office at Dublin Castle. He’s a most agreeable man. You needn’t be the least bit afraid of him. Not that it’s likely you would be. He’s much more likely to be afraid of you. It won’t take you long. You can run up by the night mail and----” “Give me the order.” Lord Manton surrendered. He crossed the room, sat down at his desk, and wrote-- “Sergeant Farrelly, R.I.C. Kindly give all the assistance in your power to Miss Blow, the bearer of this note, who wishes to search the country for a dead body.--MANTON.” “If that is any use to you,” he said, “you’re welcome to it. Let me know how you get on. Any time you happen to find yourself near this house, drop in for luncheon or tea. Good-bye.” Miss Blow rose, bowed, and left the room. Lord Manton rang the bell. “Wilkins,” he said to his butler. “Yes, my lord.” “You saw that young lady who left the house just now? Very well, if she calls again and I happen to be out, you are to give her breakfast, luncheon, tea or dinner according to the hour of the day. If I happen to be at home you are to stay in the room during the time she is with me, as a chaperone. You understand, Wilkins?” “Yes, my lord.” “She doesn’t require a chaperone, but I do. I don’t feel safe when I’m alone with her. And Wilkins, if she brings a corpse along with her, either Dr. O’Grady’s corpse or any other, you will provide proper accommodation for it. Put it on the table in the servants’ hall with a sheet over it, and send out to the garden for flowers--white flowers.” “Yes, my lord.”