She was about thirty years of age, slender, with dark hair and a face
just missing beauty. She was gowned in black, with a bunch of violets at
her waist, and she wore a large mesh veil, through which her
particularly fine dark eyes sparkled discriminatingly.

The Superintendent arose and bowed graciously. Ranleigh was a gentleman
by birth and by breeding.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Winton?" he asked, placing a chair for
her--where her face would be in full view from the cabinet.

"You can do nothing for me, sir," she replied, with a charming smile. "I
came to you as head of the Police Department for the purpose of
detailing what I saw in connection with the matter I mentioned to you
over the telephone. It may be of no value to you--I even may do wrong in
volunteering my information, but--"

"On the contrary," the Superintendent interjected, "you confer a great
favour on this Department by reporting to it any suspicious
circumstances. It is for it to investigate and determine whether they
call for action. Pray proceed, my dear Mrs. Winton."

She gave him another charming smile and went on.

"I was out last evening, and it was after midnight when I got back to
the Burlingame. My apartment is on the third floor front. Instead of
going to bed at once, I sat down at the open window to enjoy the gentle
breeze. I must have dozed, for I was aroused by a cab coming up
Eighteenth and stopping before the large, grey-stone house opposite--the