Hickman had, in my absence, crossed to Mabel, and was sitting beside her in earnest conversation, therefore I was compelled to seat myself with my hostess and the Irritating Woman and chat with them. But ere long I contrived again to reach the side of the woman whom I adored, and to again press her for an appointment. "It is far better forme to write to you," she answered, beneath her breath. "As I've told you, we have so many calls to make and cards to leave." "Your mother tells me that you have a box for the Prince of Wales's on Saturday night, and has asked me to join you," I said. Her eyes brightened, and I saw that she was delighted at the prospect. But she expressed a hope that I wouldn't be bored. "Bored!" I echoed. "Why, I'm never bored when in your company. I fear that it's the other way about--that I bore you." "Certainly not," she responded decisively. "I very soon contrive to give persons who are bores their _conge_. Mother accuses me of rudeness to them sometimes, but I assure you I really can't help being positively insulting. Has mother asked you to dine on Saturday?" "Yes," I answered. "But shan't I see you before then?" "No; I think it is very unlikely. We'll have a jolly evening on Saturday." "But I enjoy immensely those walks across the Park," I blurted forth in desperation. "And I also," she admitted with a sweet frankness. "But this week it is utterly impossible to make any arrangements." Mention of the theatre afforded me an opportunity of putting to her a question upon which, during the past couple of hours, I had reflected deeply. "You've, of course, been to the Exhibition at Earl's Court, living here in the immediate vicinity," I said. "I've only been once," she answered. "Although we've had this house nearly two years, exhibitions don't appeal to me very much. I was there at night, and the gardens were prettily illuminated, I thought." "Yes," I said. "With the exception of the gardens, there is far too much pasteboard scenic effect. I suppose you noticed that serrated line of mountains over which the eternal switchback runs? Those self-same mountains, repainted blue, grey, or purple, with tips of snow, have, within my personal knowledge, done duty as the Alps, the Pyrenees, the Rockies, and the Atlas, not counting half a dozen other notable ranges." She laughed, slowly fanning herself the while. By her reply I had obtained from her own lips a most important fact in the inquiry I intended now to prosecute, namely, that this house had been her home for nearly two years. Therefore it had been in Mrs Anson's possession at the time of the tragedy.