l.

"But she walked lame and she came from Room 3?"

Yes. He remembered that much.

Gerridge, with a nod to the manager, stepped into the open compartment of
the whirling door. "I'm off," said he. "Expect to hear from me in two
hours."

At twenty minutes to ten Mr. Ransom was called up on the telephone.

"One question, Mr. Ransom."

"Hello, who are you?"

"Gerridge."

"All right, go ahead."

"Did you see the face of the woman you spoke to in Room No. 3?"

"Of course. She was looking directly at me."

"You remember it? Could identify it if you saw it again?"

"Yes; that is--"

"That's all, good-by."

The circuit was cut off.

Another intolerable wait. Then there came a knock on the door and
Gerridge entered. He held a photograph in his hand which he had evidently
taken from his pocket on his way up.

"Look at this," said he. "Do you recognize the face?"

"The lady--"

"Just so; the one who said she had seen no one come into No. 3 on the
first floor."

Mr. Ransom's expression of surprised inquiry was sufficient answer.

"Well, it's a pity you didn't look at her gloves instead of at her face.
You might have had some dim idea of having seen them before. It was she
who rode to the hotel with you; not your wife. The veil was wound around
her face for a far deeper purpose than to ward off rice."

Mr. Ransom staggered back against the table before which he had been
standing. The blow was an overwhelming one.

"Who is this woman?" he demanded. "She came from Mr. Fulton's house. More
than that, from my wife's room. What is her name and what did she mean by
such an outrage?"

"Her name is Bella Burton, and she is your wife's confidential maid. As
for the meaning of this outrage, it will take more than two hours to
ferret out that. I can only give you the single fact I've mentioned."

"And Mrs. Ransom?"

"She left the house at the same moment you did; you and Miss Burton. Only
she went by the basement door."

"She? _She?_"

"Dressed in her maid's clothes. Oh, you'll have to hear worse things than
that before we're out of this muddle. If you won't mind a bit of advice
from a man of experience, I would suggest that you take things easy. It's
the only way."

Shocked into silence by this cold-blooded philosophy, Mr. Ransom
controlled both his anger and his humiliation; but he could not control
his surprise.

"What does it mean?" he murmured to himself. "_What does it all mean?_"

CHAPTER