times during the last few years as something of a celebrity. So, you
see, it was not a great trick to recognize you under the electric
lights, even at one o'clock in the morning."

Harleston nodded. It was plausible surely. Moreover, he was prepared to
accept her story; thus far it seemed straightforward and extremely
credible.

"It was about three when you telephoned to me--where were you then?" he
asked.

"At the Chateau. They were kind enough to release me about three
o'clock, and to send me back in a private car--at least, it wasn't a
taxi. Now, have you any other questions?"

"I think not, for the present."

"Have I satisfied you that my tale is true?"

"I am satisfied," he replied.

"Then you will give me the letter?" she said joyfully.

"And what of the roses?"

"I presented them to you last night."

"And of this handkerchief?" drawing it from his pocket.

She took the bit of lace, glanced at it, and handed it back.