"I am well acquainted with people of unsound mind," T. B. went on, "especially that section of the insane whose lunacy takes the form of dropping their aitches." "You are being sarcastic at my expense," said the other, suddenly turning to him with a lowered brow. "I think it is only right to tell you that, in addition to being Mr. Moole's secretary, I am a doctor." "That is also no news to me," smiled T. B. "You are an American doctor with a Pennsylvania degree. You came to England in eighteen hundred and ninety-six, on board the _Lucania_. You left New York hurriedly as the result of some scandal in which you were involved. It is, in fact, much easier to trace your movements since the date of your arrival than it is to secure exact information concerning Mr. Moole, who is apparently quite unknown to the American Embassy." The large face of the secretary flushed to a deep purple. "You are possibly exceeding your duty," he said, gratingly, "in recalling a happening of which I was but an innocent victim." "Possibly I am," agreed T. B. He bowed slightly to the man, and descended the broad steps to the unkempt lawn in front of the house. He was joined at the gate by the two men he had brought down. One of these was Ela. "What did you find?" asked that worthy man. "I found much that will probably be useful to us in the future," said T. B., as he stepped into the fly, followed by his subordinate. He turned to the third detective. "You had better wait here," he said, "and report on who arrives and who departs. I shall be back within a couple of hours." The man saluted, and the fly drove off. "I have one more call to make," said T. B. Smith, "and I had better make that alone, I think. Tell the flyman to drop me at Little Bradley Rectory." Lady Constance Dex was not unprepared for the visit of the detective. She had seen him from the window of her room, driving past the rectory in the direction of the Secret House, and he found her expectantly waiting him in the drawing-room. He came straight to the heart of the matter. "I have just been to visit a man who I understand is a friend of yours," he said. She inclined her head. "You mean Mr. Moole?" "That is the man," said the cheerful T. B. She thought for a long time before she spoke again. She was evidently making up her mind as to how much she would tell this insistent officer of the law. "I suppose you might as well know the whole facts of the case," she said; "if you will sit over there, I will supplement the information I gave you in Brakely Square a few days ago." T. B. seated himself. "I am certainly a visitor to the Secret House," she said, after a while. She did not look at the detective as she spoke, but kept her gaze fixed upon the window and the garden without. "I told you that I have had one love affair in my life; that affair," she went on steadily, "was with George Doughton; you probably know his son." T. B. nodded.