fellow countryman and a budding diplomatist. I suppose if I can
give you a lift I ought to."

The taxi was on the Embankment now, and they sped along for some
time in silence. Mr. Richard Vanderpole was more than a little
puzzled.

"Of course, Penelope," he said, "I don't expect you to tell me
anything which you feel that you oughtn't to. There is one thing,
however, which I must ask you."

She nodded.

"Well?"

"I should like to know what the mischief my being in the
diplomatic service has to do with it?"

"If I explained that," she answered, "I should be telling you
everything I haven't quite made up my mind to do that yet."

"Tell me this?" he asked. "Would that hint which he dropped when
he was here last help you to solve the mystery of his murder?"

"It might," she admitted.

"Then I think," he said, "apart from any other reason, you ought
to tell somebody. The police at present don't seem to have the
ghost of a clue."