did
the pompous Mr. White mean when he talked about definite knowledge?
Definite knowledge of what? She gave it up with a shrug. She was not as
much alarmed as disturbed. Life was grating a little, and she resented
this departure from the smooth course which it had hitherto run. She
resented the intrusion of Mr. Beale, who was drunk one moment and sober
the next, who had offices in the city which he did not visit and who
took such an inordinate interest in her affairs, and she resented him
all the more because, in some indefinable way, he had shaken her
faith--no, not shaken her faith, that was too strong a term--he had
pared the mild romance which Dr. van Heerden's friendship represented.

She got up from the table and paced the room, planning her day. She
would go out to lunch and indulge in the dissipation of a matinee.
Perhaps she would stay out to dinner and come back--she shivered
unconsciously and looked round the room. Somehow she did not look
forward to an evening spent alone in her flat.

"Matilda, you're getting maudlin," she said, "you are getting romantic,
too. You are reading too many sensational novels and seeing too many
sensational films."

She walked briskly into her bedroom, unhooked a suit from the wardrobe
and laid it on the bed.

At that moment there came a knock at the door. She put down the
clothes-brush which was in her hand, walked out into the hall, opened
the door and stepped back. Three men stood in the passage without. Two
were strangers with that curious official look which the plain-clothes
policeman can never wholly eradicate from his bearing. The third was Mr.
White, more pompous and more solemn than ever.

"Miss Cresswell?" asked one of the strangers.

"That is my name."

"May we come inside? I want to see you."

She led the way to her little sitting-room. Mr. White followed in the
rear.

"Your name is Oliva Cresswell. You were recently employed by Punsonby's,
Limited, as cashier."

"That is true," she said, wondering what was coming next.

"Certain information was laid against you," said the spokesman, "as a
result of which you were discharged from the firm this morning?"

She raised her eyebrows in indignant surprise.

"Information laid against me?" she said haughtily. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that a charge was made against you that you were converting
money belonging to the firm to your own use. That was the charge, I
believe, sir?" He turned to Mr. White.