The two men looked at each other. There was a brief pause; then
Allerdyke slowly produced a small packet, wrapped in tissue-paper, from
his waistcoat pocket. He laid it on the table at his side and looked at
his hostess.

"I knew you had been in my cousin's room," he said. "You left or dropped
your shoe-buckle there. I found it when I searched his room. Then the
hotel manager showed me your wire. Here's the buckle."

He was watching her narrowly as he spoke, and his glance deepened in
intensity as he handed over the little packet and watched her unwrap the
paper. But there was not a sign of anything but a little surprised
satisfaction in the prima donna's face as she recognized her lost
property, and her eyes were ingenuous enough as she turned them on him.

"Why, of course, that's mine!" she exclaimed. "I'm ever so much obliged
to you, Mr. Allerdyke. Yes, I wired to the hotel, in my proper name, you
know--Zélie de Longarde is only my professional name. I didn't want to
lose that buckle--it was part of a birthday present from my mother. But
you don't mean to say that you travelled all the way to Edinburgh to hand
me that! Surely not?"

"No!" replied Allerdyke. He wanted to take a direct share in the talking,
and went resolutely ahead now that the chance had come. "No--not at all.
I knew you'd come to Edinburgh--found it out from that chauffeur who was
driving you when you and I met at Howden the night before last, and so I
came on to find you. I want to ask you some questions about my cousin,
and maybe to get you to come and give evidence at the inquest on him."

"Inquest!" she exclaimed. "I know what that means, of course. Why--you