all my life. Finally, when Sir Henry put everybody else out and
closed the door, and the three of us sat down at the table to try
to untangle the thing, I very nearly screamed with excitement.
Mr. Meadows sat with his arms folded, not saying a word; but Sir
Henry went ahead with his explanation."

The girl looked like a vivid portrait, the soft colors of her
gown and all the cool, vivid extravagancies of youth
distinguished in her. Her words indicated fervor and excited
energy; but they were not evidenced in her face or manner. She
was cool and lovely. One would have thought that she recounted
the inanities of a curate's tea party.

The aged man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry,
remained in his position at the window. The old woman sat with
her implacable face, unchanging like a thing insensible and
inorganic.

This unsympathetic aspect about the girl did not seem to disturb
her. She went on:

"The thing was thrilling. It was better than any theater - the
three of us at the old mahogany table in the room, and the
Scotland Yard patrol outside.

"Sir Henry was bubbling over with his theory. `I read this
riddle like a printed page,' he said. `It will be the work of a
little band of expert cracksmen that the Continent has kindly
sent us. We have had some samples of their work in Brompton
Road. They are professional crooks of a high order - very clever