“That is a very good word,” said Dorn with a faint smile. “But because of this personal interest and--liking--I realise I’m being very lame and unconvincing, but I’m rather a fool in my dealings with women--I want you to go back to Charlotte Street.” Lois shook her head. “I quite understand that you are disinterested,” she said. “I’m not,” he interrupted. “I’m too interested in you to be disinterested.” “Well, in spite of that, or because of that, I am staying with Lady Moron to-night. To-morrow we are leaving, Miss Smith and I, and are returning to Charlotte Street.” “You are returning to Charlotte Street to-night,” he said, almost harshly, and she stiffened. “What do you mean?” she demanded coldly. “I mean just what I say. I will not have you stay in this devil house another night. Won’t you be persuaded, Miss Reddle?” he pleaded. “You don’t imagine for one moment that this is a caprice on my part? Or that I have any unreasoning prejudice against Lady Moron and her son? I beg of you not to go to that house to-night.” “Can you give me any reason?” He shook his head. “You must trust me, and believe that I have a very excellent reason, even though I can’t for the moment disclose it. That is, unless you see some reason yourself?” “I don’t,” she said. “There have been a number of accidents; do you suggest Lady Moron is responsible?” “I suggest nothing.” “Then I’ll say good-night,” she said, and was passing on; but he barred her way, and at that moment he must have signalled to the dark figure in the background, for the tall man came forward. “This is Sergeant Lighton, of the Criminal Investigation Department,” he said, and then indicated the girl: “This is Lois Reddle. I charge her with being concerned in the attempted murder of John Braime!” The girl listened, thunderstruck, rooted to the spot. “You charge me?” she said in horror. “But, Mr. Dorn----” Michael Dorn made a signal, and the tall man caught Lois gently by the arm. Within half an hour of the prison gate opening for her mother, a cell door in a mundane police station closed upon her daughter. Chapter Twenty “And that’s that!” said Michael Dorn lugubriously, as he left the police station in company with the tall officer. “Lighton, I’m going to catch a real thief now, if my theories are sound. And my main theory has something to do with an envelope which I begged from a clerk at the Home Office to-day, and which was posted to my address this afternoon.” “Letter-box stealing?” asked the other, and Michael did not reply until he had secured the cab that was crawling on the other side of the street and they were seated.