"A railway station," said Mr. Cadbury Taylor, "is not the most inspiring
place in London for the spending of a spare half hour; besides, I had
some facts to get together, which are now tabulated in my note-book, and
I'm quite ready to go, if the train is."

"I have secured a smoking compartment here where we shall be alone."

"That's right, Smith," said Cadbury Taylor. "You are always so
thoughtful," and the two men entered the compartment together.

Just as the guards were shouting, "Take your seats, please," Miss Baxter
made a bolt for the compartment in which the detective and his friend
sat together in opposite corners.

"I beg your pardon," said Smith, "this is a smoking compartment." The
lady replied to him volubly in French, and next instant the porter
heaved the typewriter and hand-bag on the seat beside her. Smith seemed
to resent the intrusion, and appeared about to blame the porter, but the
man answered rapidly as he banged the door shut, "The lady doesn't speak
any English," and the next moment the train moved out of the station.

"There was no need," said the detective, "my dear Smith, to depend upon
the porter for the information that the lady could not speak English.
She is the secretary to a very rich employer in Chicago, and came from
that city to New York, where she sailed on the _Servia_ alone, coming to
England to transact some special business, of which I could here give
you full particulars, if it were worth while. She came from Liverpool to
London over the Great Western Railway, and is now on her way to Paris.
All this, of course, is obvious to the most casual observer, and so, my