"Go down at once to Hythe and see Mona." "But I don't know her," said Prelice, taken aback, although his face grew hot and his heart bounded at the idea of meeting this adorable girl, with whom he now knew himself to be in love. "I'll give you a card of introduction. Tell her that I'm all right and will be down as soon as I can." "All right," assented Prelice, feeling a guilty joy in thus yielding to a delightful temptation. "But the case?" "That can look after itself until the inquest is over. Then, when I have seen Mona, and her future is settled by Martaban--her living and income and all that I mean--we can look into matters. I am as keen as you are to get at the truth of these two murders, Dorry. We can dispense with Horace." "I wish I knew exactly why he backed out," muttered Prelice thoughtfully; "it is so unlike Horace to jib." "Perhaps he has something to do with the matter himself, seeing that he possessed the Sacred Herb," said Shepworth jocularly. "Nonsense. Horace would kill one man and a dozen men in fair fight, but he's not the chap to stick anyone in the back. By the way, tell me one thing, Ned. This lady, who came in with Agstone, and waved the cup under your nose to make you insensible--she wore a green mask, you said?" "Yes; and a green domino also." Prelice nodded. "Did you catch a glimpse of her frock by any chance, or did your senses fail you?" "They did not fail me too quickly. I _did_ see her frock. It was a white dress with thin lines of red running horizontally across it." "Many lines?" asked Prelice breathlessly. "It seemed to be ruled like a page of music," said Shepworth. "Why, what is the matter?" "Matter!" echoed Prelice, who had risen and was dancing round the room like a school-boy. "What you say gives me a clue. I saw that dress at the ball. The lady who wore it was scented with tuberoses----" "With tuberoses?" "Or with the Sacred Herb. I must find out who she is." "How can you?" "I don't know. I can't say. But if we can find her we may learn if she killed Agstone, and why she did it. That discovery will lead to learning who murdered Lanwin. It is the beginning of the end. Give up the case indeed!" cried Prelice exultantly--"why, it's the only thing that renders life in London bearable." "But do you think that this lady is guilty?" asked Shepworth doubtfully. "Of course I do. Otherwise, why should she be scented with the perfume of the Sacred Herb, which has to do with both crimes?" Shepworth shook his head, unable to answer this question. CHAPTER XII. MRS. DOLLY ROVER.