For a moment Lois had the illusion that the young man was holding on to his mother’s skirt, and she had an insane desire to laugh, as her ladyship went forth majestically, followed by what Lizzy had described, not unfaithfully, as “the thing attached to the Countess.” Shaddles bustled through the outer office, opened the door for them, and went down to see her ladyship into her car before he returned. “Now, what the devil do you mean by smashing up my car?” he grated. “And look at the condition of these documents. Is that the sort of thing that can go before a Master in Chambers? Pah!” Before she could reply: “Whatever are the cost of the repairs I shall send the bill to you, and I shall expect you to act in an honourable manner, for I’m not sure that you are not liable in law. You will have a good salary and you owe your position entirely to the fact that I happen to be her ladyship’s solicitor.” “If there is any damage, I will pay for it, Mr. Shaddles,” said the girl, and was glad to make her escape. Lizzy Smith did not find her a very communicative companion, and she was responsible for most of the conversation on the way back to their lodgings. Lois was glad when her companion left her that night to join a girl friend who had two tickets for a theatre. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to think out this most terrifying problem of hers. There were other problems too, for suddenly she remembered the look of utter horror and amazement that had come to Michael Dorn’s face when she told him she was going to the prison. Did he know, and was he dogging her footsteps for any other than the obvious reason--the young man’s desire to get acquainted with the girl who had taken his fancy? That seemed impossible. She was glad she was taking up a new post. She would have leisure, in the service of Lady Moron, and opportunities, perhaps, for meeting people who would be helpful to her in the conduct of her investigations. A thought occurred to her as she was sitting before her untasted supper, and, getting up, she put on her hat and went eastwards to Fleet Street. She had been to the _Daily Megaphone_ before to make searches on behalf of Mr. Shaddles, but now she found that the offices, which are usually open to the public, were closed. She sent up a note from the jealously guarded lobby of the editorial offices, and to her joy her request was granted, and a messenger conducted her to the file room. Taking down one of the many big black volumes which filled the shelves on one side of the room and opening it at the date she had remembered, the messenger left her; and for two hours she studied the details of what she would ordinarily have dismissed as a sordid and wicked crime. She was half-way through the account of the trial when she saw a name that made her gasp. It was the name of a witness who had been called by the defence--Mrs. Amelia Reddle!