It was here, perhaps, that Mr. Coulson sank a little from the
heights of complete success. He repeated the name, and obviously
took time to think before he answered.

"Miss Penelope Morse," the Inspector continued. "She is a young
American lady, who lives with an invalid aunt in Park Lane, and
who is taken everywhere by the Duchess of Devenham, another aunt,
I believe."

"I suppose I may say that I am acquainted with her," Mr. Coulson
admitted. "She came here the other evening with a young man--Sir
Charles Somerfield."

"Ah!" the Inspector murmured.

"She'd read that interview of mine with the Comet man," Mr.
Coulson said, "and she fancied that perhaps I could tell her
something about Hamilton Fynes."

"First time you'd met her, I suppose?" the Inspector remarked.

"Sure!" Mr. Coulson answered. "As a matter of fact, I know very
few of my compatriots over here. I am an American citizen myself,
and I haven't too much sympathy with any one, man or woman, who
doesn't find America good enough for them to live in."

The Inspector nodded.

"Quite so," he agreed. "So you hadn't anything to tell this young