darkness,
and the suspicion the police also held--the suspicion of a woman.

Relation of the curious affair seemed to have unnerved her. She had
become paler and was fidgeting with her serviette. Loving me so
devotedly, she seemed to entertain vague and ridiculous fears regarding
my own personal safety.

"It was very foolish and hazardous of you to have returned there at that
hour, dear," she declared with sweet solicitation, as she drew on her
white gloves preparatory to leaving the restaurant, for I had already
paid the bill and drained my liqueur-glass.

"I don't see why," I said. "Whatever could have happened to me, when----"

My sentence remained unfinished.

I held my breath. The colour must have left my cheeks, I know.

My well-beloved had at that moment opened her handbag and taken out her
wisp of lace handkerchief.

My nostrils were instantly filled with that same sweet, subtle perfume
which I so vividly recollected, the identical perfume of the woman
concealed in that dark passage-way!

Her bangles, two thin gold ones, jingled as she moved--that same sound
which had come up to me from the blackness. I sat like a statue, staring
at her amazed, aghast, like a man in a dream.

CHAPTER III.

DESCRIBES THE TRYSTING-PLACE.

I drove Phrida back to Cromwell Road in a taxi.

As I sat beside her, that sweet irritating perfume filled my senses,
almost intoxicating me. For some time I remained silent; then, unable to
longer restrain my curiosity, I exclaimed with a calm, irresponsible air,
though with great difficulty of self-restraint:

"What awfully nice perfume you have, dearest! Surely it's new, isn't it?
I never remember smelling it before!"

"Quite new, and rather delicious, don't you think? My cousin Arthur
brought it from Paris a few days ago. I only opened the bottle last
night. Mother declared it to be the sweetest she's ever smelt. It's so
very strong that one single drop is sufficient."

"What do they call it?"

"Parfait d'Amour. Lauzan, in the Place Vendome, makes it. It's quite new,
and not yet on the market, Arthur said. He got it--a sample bottle--from
a friend of his in the perfume trade."

Not on the market! Those words of hers condemned her. Little did she
dream that I had smelt that same sweet, subtle odour as I descended the
stairs from Sir Digby's flat. She, no doubt, had recognised my silhouette
in the half darkness, yet nevertheless she felt herself quite safe,
knowin