A very beautiful woman was his first impression. Whatever hardness there was in the face, whatever suggestion there might be of those masterful qualities about which he had heard, there could be no questioning the rare clearness of the skin, the glories of those hazel eyes, or the exquisite modelling of the face. He judged her to be on the right side of thirty, and was not far out, for Lady Constance Dex at that time was twenty-seven. She was well, even richly, dressed, but she did not at first give this impression. T. B. imagined that she might be an authority on dress, and in this he took an accurate view, for though not exactly a leader of fashion, Lady Constance had perfect taste in such matters. He pulled forward a chair to the side of his desk. "Won't you sit down?" he said. She gave a brief smile as she seated herself. "I am afraid you will think I am a bore, disturbing you, Mr. Smith, especially at this hour of the morning, but I wanted to see you about the extraordinary happenings of the past few days. I have just come up to town," she went on; "in fact, I came up the moment I heard the news." "Mr. Farrington is, or was, a friend of yours?" said T. B. She nodded. "He and I have been good friends for many years," she replied, quietly; "he is an extraordinary man with extraordinary qualities." "By the way," said T. B., "his niece was staying with you a few nights ago, was she not?" Lady Constance Dex inclined her head. "She came to a ball I was giving, and stayed the night," she said. "I motored back to Great Bradley after the dance, so that I have not seen her since I bade her good night. I am going along to see what I can do for her," she concluded. She had been speaking very deliberately and calmly, but now it was with an effort that she controlled her voice. "I understand, Mr. Smith," she said suddenly, "that you have a small scent bottle which is my property; Mr. Farrington wrote to me about it." T. B. nodded. "It was found in the area of Mr. Farrington's house," he said, "on the night that the two men were killed in Brakely Square." "What do you suggest?" she asked. "I suggest that you were at Mr. Farrington's house that night," said T. B. bluntly. "We are speaking now, Lady Constance, as frankly as it is possible for man and woman to speak. I suggest that you were in the house at the time of the shooting, and that when you heard the shots you doubled back into the house, through the kitchen, and out again by a back way." He saw her lips press tighter together, and went on carelessly: