III + 

Lacking any more definite line at the moment, Labar felt impelled to the theory that there had been collusion between the thieves and someone in the house. That at least furnished a working hypothesis which might be abandoned according to circumstances. It was for this reason that he doggedly set himself to interview all and sundry instead of leaving his assistants to weed them out. + 

With the shrewd suavity of an Old Bailey lawyer he examined and cross-examined, an obese shorthand writer at his elbow, until he had a complete surface knowledge, at any rate, of the movements of everyone in the house for the last twenty-four hours, and much information of their antecedents and habits. Superficially, he had to admit, as he stretched himself with a yawn some hours later, there was no one he could suspect. Perhaps, in the future, when the statements had been checked up, some hint might develop. But he did not bank on that. Frequently this kind of tedious work resulted in nothing, although it was always possible that some vitally important fact might arise. + 

Then the last person on his list entered the room. She was described as Miss Penelope Noelson, companion to Mrs. Gertstein. + 

She was a girl of perhaps twenty-two, not tall, but exquisitely proportioned. Fair hair surmounted a vivacious face, which was relieved of the insipidity of mere beauty by a determined chin, a humorous touch that lurked about the corners of her mouth, and a nose very slightly inclined to what her friends described as retroussé, but which she herself bluntly declared to be snub. On the whole she was such a girl as might make a man turn to take another look⁠—a girl not so much beautiful as piquantly pretty. + 

At the instant of her entrance Labar was engaged with his well-fed stenographer. She had reached the table he was using, and one hand rested lightly upon it, ere he was able to give her any attention. + 

“Won’t you sit down? Excuse me for one moment, will you?” he said, without lifting his eyes from the paper he was scrutinising, as he leaned over the shorthand writer, his finger following a phrase. “That’s it. ‘Mr. Vintner, the butler and myself always look round the house the last thing at night to make sure that the fastenings are safe and the burglar alarms in order. We always do it even if we know that Mr. Gertstein or his secretary has⁠—’ ” + 

She studied Labar with some interest. He bore no obvious trace of his profession⁠—no good detective ever does. He was a clean-cut specimen of the ordinary business man. He was youngish-looking, perhaps thirty or thereabouts, and his voice was that of a cultivated man. In the neighbourhood of six feet tall, his well-tailored suit could not conceal the broad shoulders and lean flanks of a man used to athletic exercises. There was a suspicion of aggression in his chin she thought. He looked efficient and he had poise. + 

Then he glanced up and his eyes met hers squarely. A flicker, it might have been of astonishment, crossed his face, only to be instantly suppressed. She met his look with sedate indifference, and two little vertical lines wrinkled his brow as he studied her. Suddenly his face cleared. He smiled⁠—the frank, open smile of a boy. + 

“I’ll take any statement from this lady, myself, Green,” he said. “You get back to the station and get on with your transcription. I want that all through by tonight.” + 

The fat stenographer collected his papers and left. Labar’s fingers fiddled idly on the table. “You are Miss Noelson?” he asked. + 

She nodded. “That is my name.” + 

“I understand that you have been away to Hampshire with Mrs. Gertstein, and only returned this morning.” + 

In his formal wearied tone she was quick to catch something⁠—it might have been imagination, or again it might have been intuition⁠—the slightest inflection of menace. “I got back by car this morning⁠—yes. There were certain shopping errands that Mrs. Gertstein wished me to do.” + 

“Huh. So it is not likely that you can help us much with this?” + 

The girl spread her hands in an eloquent gesture of dissent. He noticed that she wore no rings. “It is an absolute mystery to me⁠—a mystery and a very great shock.” + 

“Yes, of course. It would be a shock,” he returned as one engaging in polite conversation only to pass the time. “How long have you been with Mrs. Gertstein?” + 

“About six or seven months.” + 

“That all? Did you know the Gertstein people well before?” + 

“As a matter of fact I have known Mrs. Gertstein all my life. She is a sort of distant relative of mine and very much younger than her husband. We were at school together. I can see what you’re driving at, Mr. Labar,” she proceeded. “My father, who was a civil servant, died just over a year ago, leaving me a small, a very small, income. My mother has been dead for many years. I struggled along for some months, but I am afraid that I am one of those persons who need something more than a bread and butter existence. So when Adèle⁠—that’s Mrs. Gertstein⁠—offered me this position, I took it. I’m well paid for the little I do and live in a style that I could not otherwise afford.” + 

“Thank you. Do you mind if I smoke?” He lit a cigarette with elaborate care and leaned one elbow casually on the table. “I suppose you know that you are a very pretty girl.” A whimsical smile overspread his face, and he held out a protesting hand as she half rose from her seat. “Don’t misunderstand me, please. It is an unfortunate necessity of my business to ask delicate questions sometimes. You are not engaged I see. But is there anyone⁠—?” He raised his eyebrows ever so little. + 

Penelope dropped back into her chair with a laugh. “I feared for a moment you were trying to flirt with me. That would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? No, Mr. Labar, I assure you that I have no interest in any man or men that way.” + 

“I can conceive that men might be interested in you,” he smiled. “Now one more personal question. Like most ladies you have little personal extravagances that you like to indulge, eh?” + 

She flushed and pouted a little. “I don’t know that I’m so enormously extravagant. I’m fond of pretty things, and I have them within my means.” + 

“Always?” He leaned forward, and spoke the word very quietly. “You don’t⁠—ah⁠—run into debt?” + 

She swept angrily to her feet. “You are insulting,” she declared. “I can’t misunderstand you. You suggest that I am mixed up in this robbery.” + 

“Sit down!” he ordered, sternly. There was no mistaking the menace in his voice now. The girl ignored the command and remained with set face, her gaze meeting his in angry defiance. For a matter of seconds they remained thus, their wills clashing for supremacy. With deliberation he rose, and towering over her, pointed to her chair. “Sit down,” he repeated sternly, and as though under some dominating spell, she slowly obeyed. + 

He remained on his feet. “I have made no accusation against you, Miss Noelson, and you can answer me or not as you please. It will simplify my work if you answer, but bear in mind that I have other means of getting information.” + 

He noted that the wave of angry colour, which had suffused her face, had died down, leaving her with a touch of pallor. But she was holding herself steadily in hand, and had all her self-possession. + 

“In that event,” she returned, icily, “you had better apply to those other sources of information.” + 

Labar was studying her with a cold scrutiny, weighing her words and her demeanour with infinite calculation. He was alight with suspicion, but somehow he felt reluctant to press this dainty little creature with the cold official catechism that was in his mind. This was the man whom of all others, in spite of certain mild flirtations, Scotland Yard would have held immune from feminine influence. He pulled himself together. The work had to be done. + 

“Let’s be sensible,” he urged. “Now tell me, have you ever heard of a man called Larry Hughes?” + 

That was a shot in the dark. He had little doubt what the answer would be. + 

Penelope Noelson’s lips came together in a thin, obstinate line. “No,” she snapped. + 

The detective gave no sign that he had heard her. He moved aimlessly to the small table he had been using and bent over a paper. She stood up with a little petulant shrug of her shoulders, and was halfway to the door before he spoke again. + 

“Oh, by the way, there is another small matter. Why did you give me a hundred pound note this morning?” + 

Her eyes widened, and as she wheeled to face him her hands groped for the support of a chair. + 

“I gave you a hundred pound note? Why, I never saw you before in my life.” + 

He leaned grimly towards her. “You’re very nearly a convincing little liar. I recognised you the instant you came in the room. I’m calling your bluff, my girl. Now then. Suppose you come clean.” + 

For a second she stared at him uncomprehendingly. Then she slumped to the floor in a dead faint. + 