“Thank you,” said she, “I don’t want either a prescription or a sleeping draught. I’m quite well, quite sane. I can’t have been deceived. I saw the woman, I heard her speak, I saw and heard, not so well, but still I did see and hear him--a man who dragged her out of this room and into the next.” The doctor looked puzzled, as well he might. He rose from the chair which he had taken in order to feel her pulse and inquire into her symptoms, and he walked across the room and peered into the empty fitting-room. Then he looked at her again, and then at Mademoiselle Laure, who was standing motionless, with her arms folded, and her thin lips tightly pressed together, a few paces away from them. Audrey looked at her too. “If,” said Audrey, “Mademoiselle Laure would speak out, probably she could tell us something.” The Frenchwoman, whether she understood this or not, looked as if she caught only her own name, and she at once said, in French, that she had felt sure Madame must be mistaken when she told her extraordinary story. The doctor bowed his head, but it was evident that his command of colloquial French was not equal to discussion of the matter in any language but his own. There was a rather awkward pause, and then Audrey said impatiently that she supposed there was nothing more to be done, if Mademoiselle Laure would not speak. “I shall consult my friends to-morrow, and take legal advice upon this, if necessary,” she said. “Dr.----” “Fendall, my name is Fendall,” said he, supplying the name when she paused. “I am sorry to have disturbed you for nothing, as it appears. But you will be satisfied presently that I was justified in sending for you, and you will be a witness to the fact that I took the proper steps at once.” “Certainly. I hope you will let me persuade you, however, to take a sleeping draught to-night. Or at least to consult your own medical man about your health. You seem, if I may say so, to be in a highly nervous condition, and I feel sure that both rest and careful diet are imperatively necessary for you.” “Thank you,” said Audrey shortly. There was his fee to be paid, and she added as he turned with a bow to the door: “Your address, Dr. Fendall, please, and I will write to you in the morning.” He waved his hand. “Oh, no, no, I have done nothing, and I am only sorry I could not be of use.” The next moment he was gone, and Audrey, after in vain trying to summon courage enough to make another examination of the fitting-room, which would, she felt sure, have revealed some trace of the recent presence of the unhappy woman in the white dress, hastily bade Mademoiselle Laure good-night without further conversation with that reticent and astute-looking person, and went home to her rooms in Earl Street, Oxford Street. What should she do? Whom should she consult?