to do.

"How can I ever sufficiently thank you?" she asked. "Really, I could not
sleep all night for thinking about the horror of the thing and your
brave action. It was splendid!"

"Not at all," Field said modestly. "I am accustomed to danger. You see I
am a police officer, a detective inspector from Scotland Yard. It is a
little strange that I should have been able to do you a service, seeing
that I came to the theatre on purpose to see you."

The girl's eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing.

"Perhaps I had better be quite candid," Field went on. "I want you to
help me if you can."

"Most assuredly. After last night, I will do anything you like. Pray go
on."

"Thank you very much," Field replied. "It is very good of you to make my
task easier. You see I am closely connected with the inquiry into the
sudden death of Sir Charles Darryll and the subsequent startling
disappearance of his body. Were not your father and Sir Charles great
friends in India long ago? Do you recollect that?"

The girl nodded; her eyes were dilated with curiosity. Field could not
find it in his heart to believe that she was a bad girl.

"They had adventures together," she said. "They were going to make a
fortune over some mine or something of that kind. But it never came to
anything."

"You are absolutely sure of that?" Field asked.

"Well, so far as I know, the thing came to nothing. Some man was
employed to make certain investigations, and he reported badly of the
scheme. I only heard all this talk as a child, and I was not
particularly interested. You see, I knew very little of Sir Charles,
though he was my guardian. There were certain papers that he deposited
with a solicitor who used to get him out of messes from time to time,
but really I am as ignorant as you are."

"You don't even know the name of the solicitor?" Field asked.

"I do now," the girl said. "I found it among some letters. Do you know
that a Mr. Sartoris, who claims to know my father and Sir Charles, also
wrote me on the same matter? He asked me to go and see him at
Wandsworth. He is a crippled gentleman, and very nice. He has a lovely
conservatory-room full of flowers. I was at his house only last night,
and he talked to me very much the same way as you are doing."

"I know that," Field said calmly. "I was hiding in the conservatory and
listened."

Miss Decie gave a little cry of astonishment.

"Our profession leads us into strange places," Fi