He made up his mind to force matters a little. He went up boldly to the door and knocked. "Is Mrs Marsh at home?" he asked the servant who answered the summons. The girl answered in the affirmative. "Who shall I say, please?" she added. "Wait a moment. Is she alone?" It was a random shot, but it had the effect he intended. "Quite alone. Mr Williams is very bad again to-day. He's in bed." Mr Williams! Just the sort of ordinary name a man would assume under the circumstances. "She won't know my name. Just say a Mr Johnson from London wishes to see her on urgent private business." As he waited in the hall, he wondered whether she would refuse to see him? Well, if she did, it only meant delay. He would stay on at Weymouth till his business was done. The maid interrupted his reflections by calling over the banisters, "Will you come up, please?" The next moment, he was bowing to Lady Wrenwyck, who was seated in an easy-chair, a book, which she had just laid down, on her lap. She was a very beautiful woman still, and although she sat in a strong light, did not look over thirty-five. She received him a little haughtily. "I do not remember to have seen you before. What is your business with me?" Johnson fired his first shot boldly. "I believe I have the honour of addressing Lady Wrenwyck?" Her face went a shade paler. "I do not deny it. Please explain your object in seeking me out. Will you sit down?" The detective took a chair. "You have no doubt, madam, heard of the mysterious disappearance of an old friend of yours, Mr Monkton." He had expected to see her start, or show some signs of embarrassment. She did nothing of the kind. Her voice, as she answered him, was quite calm. "I have heard something of it--some wild rumour. I am sorry for his daughter and his friends, for himself, if anything terrible has happened. But why do you come to me about this?" It was Johnson's turn to feel embarrassment now. Her fine eyes looked at him unwaveringly, and there was just the suspicion of a contemptuous smile on her beautiful face. "I knew you were close friends once," he stammered. "It struck me you might know something--he might have confided something to you." He broke down, and there was a long pause. For a space Lady Wrenwyck turned her face away, and looked out on the sea front. Suddenly she divined his errand, and a low ripple of laughter escaped her. "I think I see the meaning of it all now. You have picked up some ancient rumours of my friendship with Mr Monkton, and you think he is with me here; that I am responsible for his disappearance." The detective was too embarrassed to answer her. He was thankful that she had seen things so quickly.