ctive-officer had jumped on to the
step by his side.

"I am sorry," said T. B. Smith, for he it was who had detained the young
doctor, "but I will explain. Don't bother about the taxi driver; my men
will see after him. You have had a narrow escape of being kidnapped," he
added.

He drove the puzzled doctor to Scotland Yard, and piece by piece he
extracted the story of one George Doughton who had died in his arms, of
a certain box containing papers which the doctor had promised to deliver
to Lady Constance, and of how that lady learnt the news of her sometime
lover's death.

"Thank you," said T. B. when the other had finished. "I think I
understand."

CHAPTER VIII

It was the morning after the recovery of Farrington's body that T. B.
Smith sat in his big study overlooking Brakely Square. He had finished
his frugal breakfast, the tray had been taken away, and he was busy at
his desk when his man-servant announced Lady Constance Dex. T. B. looked
at the card with an expressionless face.

"Show the lady up, George," he said, and rose to meet his visitor as she
came sweeping through the doorway.

A very beautiful woman was his first impression. Whatever hardness there
was in the face, whatever suggestion there might be of those masterful
qualities about which he had heard, there could be no questioning the
rare clearness of the skin, the glories of those hazel eyes, or the
exquisite modelling of the face. He judged her to be on the right side
of thirty, and was not far out, for Lady Constance Dex at that time was
twenty-seven.

She was well, even richly, dressed, but she did not at first give this
impression. T. B. imagined that she might be an authority on dress, and
in this he took an accurate view, for though not exactly a leader of
fashion, Lady Constance had perfect taste in such matters.

He pulled forward a chair to the side of his desk.

"Won't you sit down?" he said.

She gave a brief smile as she seated herself.

"I am afraid you will think I am a bore, disturbing you, Mr. Smith,
especially at this hour of the morning, but I wanted to see you about
the extraordinary happenings of the past few days. I have just come up
to town," she went on; "in fact, I came up the moment I heard the news."

"Mr. Farrington is, or was, a friend of yours?" said T. B.

She nodded.

"He and I have been good friends for many years," she replied, quietly;
"he is an extraordinary man with extraordinary qualitie