“Come in,” she said. “I think that perhaps I’ve got a job for you.” She took him into the dining-room, pulled toward a chair for him, sat down herself facing him, and stared at him very attentively. “Excuse me,” she said, “but are you—I mean——” “Eton and Oxford,” said the young man. “That’s what you wanted to ask me, wasn’t it?” “Something of the kind,” admitted Virginia. “Come down in the world entirely through my own incapacity to stick to regular work. This isn’t regular work you’re offering me, I hope?” A smile hovered for a moment on her lips. “It’s very irregular.” “Good,” said the young man in a tone of satisfaction. Virginia noted his bronzed face and long lean body with approval. “You see,” she explained, “I’m in rather a hole, and most of my friends are—well, rather high up. They’ve all got something to lose.” “I’ve nothing whatever to lose. So go ahead. What’s the trouble?” “There’s a dead man in the next room,” said Virginia. “He’s been murdered, and I don’t know what to do about it.” She blurted out the words as simply as a child might have done. The young man went up enormously in her estimation by the way he accepted her statement. He might have been used to hearing a similar announcement made every day of his life. “Excellent,” he said, with a trace of enthusiasm. “I’ve always wanted to do a bit of amateur detective work. Shall we go and view the body, or will you give me the facts first?” “I think I’d better give you the facts.” She paused for a moment to consider how best to condense her story, and then began, speaking quietly and concisely. “This man came to the house for the first time yesterday and asked to see me. He had certain letters with him—love letters, signed with my name——” “But which weren’t written by you,” put in the young man quietly. Virginia looked at him in some astonishment “How did you know that?” “Oh, I deduced it. But go on.” “He wanted to blackmail me—and I—well, I don’t know if you’ll understand, but I—let him.” She looked at him appealingly, and he nodded his head reassuringly. “Of course I understand. You wanted to see what it felt like.” “How frightfully clever of you! That’s just what I did feel.” “I _am_ clever,” said the young man modestly. “But, mind you, very few people would understand that point of view. Most people, you see, haven’t got any imagination.” “I suppose that’s so. I told this man to come back to-day—at six o’clock. I arrived home from Ranelagh to find that a bogus telegram had got all the servants except my maid out of the house. Then I walked into the study and found the man shot.” “Who let him in?” “I don’t know. I think if my maid had done so she would have told me.” “Does she know what has happened?” “I have told her nothing.” The young man nodded, and rose to his feet.