She was wrapped in a red velvet dressing-gown and its warm colour contrasted painfully with the greyness of her face and lips. On catching sight of the inspector, she started, but controlling herself with an obvious effort, she turned to her husband. "You wish to speak to me?" "You can see for yourself, Inspector, that her Ladyship is in no condition to be questioned," remonstrated Cyril, moving quickly to his wife's side. "Just as you say, my lord, but in that case her Ladyship had better finish her dressing. It will be necessary for her to accompany me to headquarters." "I will not allow it," cried Cyril, almost beside himself and throwing a protecting arm around Amy's shoulders. Her bloodshot eyes rested a moment on her husband, then gently disengaging herself, she drew herself to her full height and faced the inspector. "What is the matter? You need not try to spare me." "His Lordship----" "Do not listen to his Lordship. It is I who demand to be told the truth." "Amy, I beg you--" interposed Cyril. "No, no," she cried, shaking off her husband's hand. "Let me know the worst. Don't you see that you are torturing me?" "There has been a mistake. It is all my fault," began Cyril. She silenced him with an imperious gesture. "I am waiting to hear what the inspector has to say." Griggs cast a questioning look at Cyril, which the latter answered by a helpless shrug. "A bag has been found in his Lordship's chimney, which was lately purchased in Newhaven. Do you know how it got there? But perhaps before answering, you may wish to consult your legal adviser." She cast a quick glance at her husband. "I will neither acknowledge nor deny anything until I have seen this bag and know of what I am accused," she answered after a barely perceptible pause. Griggs opened the door and called: "Jones, the bag, please." The inspector handed it to Amy. She looked at it for a moment. Cyril watched her breathlessly. What would she say? Had the moment come when he must proclaim the truth? "Am I supposed to have bought this bag?" she asked. "No, my lady. It was sold to Prentice, who was sempstress at Geralton and we believe it is the one in which Lady Wilmersley carried off her jewels." Amy gave a muffled exclamation, but almost instantly she regained her composure. "If that is so, how do you connect me with it? Because it happens to have been found here, do you accuse me of having robbed my cousin?" "No, my lady, but as you spent the night of the murder in Newhaven----" To Cyril's surprise she shuddered from head to foot. "No, no!" she cried, stretching out her hands as if to ward off a blow. "It is useless to deny it. His Lordship himself told me that you had joined him there." "I lied! It was not her Ladyship who was with me. Her Ladyship was in Paris at the time. I swear it on my honour. The bag is--is mine. You can arrest me. I am guilty." Thank God, thought Cyril, he had at last found a way of saving both his love and his honour.