“Alas, no,” sighed Kate, fearing to venture to be so specific as to locate the mysterious man in a definite house anywhere. “Alas, no. When I reached Pall Mall he had disappeared.” “Oh, dam—that is, you know, I beg pardon—what a pity you missed him,” exclaimed Ferret, rapidly calculating what her game was. “It is only just gone nine,” remarked the Inspector sternly. “When was it that you were at Mr. Fair’s house, Ferret? This is very strange.” It was Ferret’s turn now to fear that the course of affairs reflected on his discretion, and, while he could hardly believe that the Inspector had failed to perceive that the governess was fibbing, he could not risk being thought a bungler, for Sharpe was a man of few words, quick action, and little given to reopening cases once he had decided them. “I am afraid the young lady has made a mistake,” Ferret continued carefully. “It was dark and she probably mistook somebody else for the foreign gent. You see, sir, I changed my mind and didn’t go to telephone, but stood immediately opposite Mr. Fair’s house until ten minutes ago, and the gent had not come out of the door—that I can swear to.” Ferret hoped that this bit of information would so shake the girl’s confidence in her story that she would begin a new and contradictory one. “But he _did_ go out,” sobbed Kate, truly shaken, but with a woman’s determination to see a thing through; “I say he did go out. Oh, Mr. Inspector, tell me that you believe me! There is no foreign gentleman at Mr. Fair’s house—so it will be very foolish for you to send any of those awful detectives there. Do, _do_ believe me! I tell you, sir, that there has been no foreign gentleman at our house, and anyway I saw him go out.” “Ferret, come into my private office a minute,” said Sharpe, trying to retain his customary solemn and impressive expression. “Please wait here for us, miss. Nobody will come in to molest you.” “My God, what have I done now?” cried Kate, when the two terrible men, with their cold, businesslike, lynx ways, had gone. “But he did not do it—he did NOT!” she moaned as she leaned her poor reeling head upon the edge of the Inspector’s desk. They came back after a few minutes. “We believe your story, miss,” began the Inspector kindly; “and Ferret will be severely reprimanded in the morning for having annoyed you by going into your house. Now tell me anything more that you may know about this silly rumor—but be careful what you say, for you may have to swear to the truth of it all in a court of law. I shall take down what you say. Come, now, what is your name?” “Kate Mettleby,” she replied, with uneasiness as she thought of perjury; “but really, truly, honestly, there has been no murder at our house, so I don’t see why you should want me to——”