ed her pale sweet countenance, full of speechless
wonder.

After the first moment of suspense she had found herself treading firm
ground, and now, feeling herself perfectly secure, she had assumed a
perfectly frank and confident attitude.

Yet the perfume still arose to my nostrils--the sweet, subtle scent which
had condemned her.

I briefly related to Mrs. Shand my amazing adventures of the previous
night, my eyes furtively upon Phrida's countenance the while. Strangely
enough, she betrayed no guilty knowledge, but fell to discussing the
mystery with ease and common-sense calm.

"What I can't really make out is how your friend could have had the
audacity to pose as Sir Digby Kemsley, well knowing that the real person
was alive," she remarked.

"The police have discovered that Sir Digby died in Peru last January," I
said.

"While your friend was in London?"

"Certainly. My friend--I shall still call him Sir Digby, for I have known
him by no other name--has not been abroad since last July, when he went
on business to Moscow."

"How very extraordinary," remarked Mrs. Shand. "Your friend must surely
have had some object in posing as the dead man."

"But he posed as a man who was still alive!" I exclaimed.

"Until, perhaps, he was found out," observed Phrida shrewdly. "Then he
bolted."

I glanced at her quickly. Did those words betray any knowledge of the
truth, I wondered.

"Apparently there was some mystery surrounding the death of Sir Digby at
Huacho," I remarked. "The British Consul in Lima made a report upon it to
the Foreign Office, who, in turn, handed it to Scotland Yard. I wonder
what it was."

"When you know, we shall be better able to judge the matter and to form
some theory," Phrida said, crossing the room and re-arranging the big
bowl of daffodils in the window.

I remained about an hour, and then, amazed at the calmness of my
well-beloved, I returned to my rooms.

In impatience I waited till a quarter past five, when Haines ushered in a
tall, well-dressed, clean-shaven man, wearing a dark grey overcoat and
white slip beneath his waistcoat, and who introduced himself as Inspector
Charles Edwards.

"I've called, Mr. Royle, in order to make some further inquiries
regarding this person you have known as Sir Digby Kemsley," he said when
he had seated himself. "A very curious affair happened last night. I've
been down to Harrington Gardens, and have had a look around there myself.
Many feature