conventions, awfully broken. He did not move. He remained like
a painted picture.

The girl went on in her soft, slow voice. "You would have
disliked Mr. Meadows, Lady Mary," she said. "You would dislike
any American who came without letters and could not be precisely
placed." The girl's voice grew suddenly firmer. "I don't mean
to make it appear better," she said. "The worst would be nearer
the truth. He was just an unknown American bagman, with a motor
car, and a lot of time on his hands - and I picked him up. But
Sir Henry Marquis took a fancy to him."

"I cannot understand Henry," the old woman repeated. "It's
extraordinary."

"It doesn't seem extraordinary to me," said the girl. "Mr.
Meadows was immensely clever, and Sir Henry was like a man with a
new toy. The Home Secretary had just put him in as Chief of the
Criminal Investigation Department. He was full of a lot of new
ideas - dactyloscopic bureaus, photographie mitrique, and
scientific methods of crime detection. He talked about it all
the time. I didn't understand half the talk. But Mr. Meadows
was very clever. Sir Henry said he was a charming person.
Anybody who could discuss the whorls of the Galton finger-print
tests was just then a charming person to Sir Henry."

The girl paused a moment, then she went on

"I suppose things had gone so for about a fortnight when your
sister, Lady Monteith, wrote that she had seen Sir Henry with us