For the first time Lois was conscious of the woman’s presence. “Majestic” was a word which fitly described the Countess of Moron. She was tall and stoutly made. The long chinchilla cloak which covered her dress from head to heel was open to show the rich velvet brocade dress, but for the moment Lois had no eyes for the woman’s apparel, or her looped pearls, or the jewels which glittered from ears and fingers. It was the face that held her. Big, dominating, in some indefinable way menacing. Black eyebrows that met above a masterful nose; a pair of eyes of so dark a brown that they seemed black. They were what are called full eyes; the vulgar would describe them as bulging. They were hard and bright and stared unwinkingly at the girl. The mouth was big, the lips thin, and the chin full and powerful. Lois found herself trying to guess her age. Whether it was due to artifice or not, her hair was a jet black, untouched by a vestige of grey; and later she was to learn this was natural. “You are Miss Reddle?” said the countess. Her voice was almost as deep as a man’s, and she had a slow, deliberate enunciation which was a little disconcerting. Lois had the feeling that she was in a witness-box, under cross-examination. “Yes, madam, I am Lois Reddle,” she said. For a moment the countess said nothing; then she turned to her companion. “This is Miss Lois Reddle, Selwyn,” she said. He was a thin, bent man, with a weak face almost innocent of chin, and a drooping yellow moustache, the twirling of which seemed to occupy most of his spare time. “May I introduce my son, the Earl of Moron?” said her ladyship, and Lois bowed. “Glad to meet you,” murmured the earl mechanically. “Rather nice weather we’re having, what?” Having made this speech, he seemed to have exhausted his vocabulary, for he was silent during the remainder of the interview. Lady Moron withdrew her scrutiny and turned her eyes slowly to the lawyer. “She seems entirely satisfactory, Shaddles,” she said. Shaddles pursed his lips. “Yes, she’s a very good girl,” he said, “quite reliable.” He glanced disparagingly at the crumpled documents on his blotting-pad. “Quite reliable. I’ve no doubt that Miss Reddle, in her anxiety to get back to interview your ladyship, has slightly damaged my car; that will be a matter for adjustment between your ladyship and myself.” He had glanced out of the window and had taken in with an assessor’s eye the amount of the damage. Lady Moron looked at him for a time. “She had no idea I was here, Shaddles. And of course I shall not be responsible for any damage to your car.” He squirmed in his seat. “And, personally, I should doubt if the car has any value. At any rate, in my eyes it has none. Come, Selwyn.”