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"Oh, my dear! I think I understand. I am most terribly sorry. He must be mad, whoever he is. For his own sake, as well as for yours, something should be done to save him. Have you spoken to Lord Marcus about it?"

"No, I tried to, before I left this morning, but somehow it couldn't be done. Besides—think of what happened there last night—"

"Good gracious, dear, of course! Even now, I find it hard to believe. Do you mean that poor Sir Giles was actually murdered in your cousin's house?"

Fay shook her head wearily. "No one knows. He was just found there." She stood up resolutely, and faced the matron. "Thank you ever so much for listening," she said. "Now really I must hurry along. I am late already."

Mrs. Maddison observed that Fay's usually clear eyes were heavy. "Under those circumstances, you poor child, you cannot possibly have slept well."

"No. I am afraid I didn't sleep at all ..."

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In the office of the Assistant Commissioner, Chief Detective Inspector Firth was making a report. The office of Colonel O'Halloran was a comfortably furnished apartment, offering a marked contrast to that of the Chief Inspector. It was more than half a library, having a thick carpet and rugs on the floor, and pictures (chiefly of horses) on the walls; a bright room on this sunny morning, its bay window commanding an extensive view of the Thames.