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Amant the proposal seemed a most natural one. "I think that's a very good idea!" he exclaimed, and then he saw Katty's eyes fixed imploringly on his face.

      Why, of course——!

      He beckoned to Sir Angus, and the two men walked over to the big window overlooking the Embankment. "If it would not be greatly out of order," he muttered, "I think it might be a good thing if Mrs. Winslow—that is Mrs. Pavely's friend—were to go with us to Duke House. She might be useful—she has known Mr. Godfrey Pavely all her life."

      Sir Angus looked very much surprised. "Of course she could come," he said hesitatingly. "Mrs. Winslow? I didn't realise that this lady is Mrs. Winslow. Didn't I see a letter written to her by Mr. Godfrey Pavely? She has some odd Christian name—if it's the person I have in my mind."

      "Her Christian name is Katty," said Lord St. Amant quickly.

      "Yes, that was it—'My dear Katty.' I remember now. It was a letter about an investment, written on the 30th of December, if I'm not mistaken. Certainly she can come with us. I have my car downstairs—she could drive in my car, and wait in it while we make the investigation."

      The two came back to where the ladies were sitting, silently waiting.

      "I have suggested to Sir Angus that it might be useful if Mrs. Winslow came with us—and you too, my dear Laura, if you desire to do so, of course."

      But Laura shook her head, and an expression of horror came into her face. "Oh no," she exclaimed. "I would much rather stay here!"

      Katty had already got up, and was drawing on the gloves she had taken off. She felt strung up, fearfully excited—and very, very grateful to Lord St. Amant.

      She was quite unaware that for the first time the Commissioner of Police was looking at her with attention.

      There were two entrances to Duke House, the one giving access to the four spacious flats, of which so far only one had been let, while the other simply consisted of a porter's lodge and a lift shooting straight up to the offices which were above the flats.

      And now, within ten minutes of their leaving Scotland Yard, they were all standing just within the second door, filling up the small space in front of the lift, for Mrs. Winslow at the last moment had begged to be allowed to get out of the car. "I don't feel as if I could sit there—waiting," she had exclaimed, and after a moment's hesitation Sir Angus allowed the plea.

      Lord St. Amant noticed with interest that the Police Commissioner took no part in the preliminary proceedings. He left everything to the elder of the two men he had brought with him. Still, he lent a very attentive ear to what his subordinate was saying to the porter, and to the porter's answers.

      "I expect that it was you who answered the telephone message I sent half an hour ago, eh?"

      "Yes, of course I did—you mean about Mr. Apra here? Well, I told you then everything there is to say about him. He's a foreigner, of course—but a very pleasant-mannered gentleman. He took an office on the second day we was open. For a while he was here a good bit most days, and quite a number of people came to see him on business. Then he went abroad, I fancy I heard him say, and his office was shut up. He wouldn't let any one go in, not even to clean it, unless he was there. He explained as how his business was very secret—something to do with a Concession. He was nervous lest other folk should get hold of the idea."

      "When was he here last?"

      "Well, it's difficult for me to remember such a thing as that—I can't be sure that I could say he was here within the last fortnight, or perhaps ten days ago. Two or three people have called to see him. One gentleman came by appointment—I do remember that, because he'd been several times, and mostly this Mr. Apra was in to see him. But I don't see what call you have to ask me all these questions?"

      The Scotland Yard man bent forward and said something in a low voice, and the porter exclaimed, with an air of astonishment, "What? You don't mean to say the gentleman's 'wanted'?"

      Then the detective said something else in a joking way, and the porter shook his head. "I haven't got a key! He had another lock put on. Lots of business gentlemen do that." And then he asked anxiously, "D'you see any objection to my telephoning to Messrs. Drew & Co.—they're the agents, you know? 'Twould make me more comfortable in my own mind, because then I shouldn't get blamed—whatever happened. They'd send some one along in about five minutes—they've got a West End office."

      The Scotland Yard official looked round for instructions from Sir Angus, and the latter imperceptibly nodded.

      "All right—we'll wait five minutes. I've brought some tools along."

      "Tools?" The porter stared at him.

      "Sometimes, you know, we do find it necessary to burst open a door!"

      The five minutes—it was barely more—seemed the longest time Katty had ever spent in waiting.

      Lord St. Amant took pity on her obvious unease and anxiety. He walked out with her to the street, and they paced quickly up and down in the cold, wintry air.

      "Do you think we shall find anything?" she murmured at last.

      He answered gravely, "I confess that the whole thing looks very queer to me. I haven't lived to my time of life without becoming aware that amazing, astounding things do happen. Perhaps I am over-influenced by the fact that years and years ago, when I was a boy, a school-fellow of mine, of whom I was very fond, did shoot himself accidentally with a pistol. He was staying with us, and he had gone on in front of me into the gun-room—and I—I went in and found him lying on the ground—dead."

      "How horrible!" murmured Katty. "How very horrible!" and her face blanched.

      As they turned yet once more, a taxi drove quickly up to the door of Duke Mansion, and a young, clean-shaven man jumped out.

      Instinctively he addressed himself to Sir Angus Kinross: "About this tenant of ours—Mr. Fernando Apra? To the best of my belief he is a perfectly respectable man. He gave a very good reference, that of a big Paris banker, and with us, at any rate, he was quite frank about his business. He has obtained a gambling concession from this new Portuguese Government, and he came to London to try and raise money for the building of a Casino, and so on. He's an optimistic chap, and his notion is to create a kind of Portuguese Monte Carlo. He told us quite frankly that he didn't intend to keep the office going here for more than six months, or possibly a year, and we arranged that he should be able to surrender his three years' lease—we don't let these rooms under a three years' agreement—on the payment of a rather substantial fine. I think the porter is sure to have a key which will admit you into his room—I understand you want to get into his office?"

      And then, at last, Sir Angus answered, rather drily, "The porter cannot admit us to the office, for this Mr. Fernando Apra has had a second lock fitted. It seems he never allowed any one access to the room—unless he happened to be there himself."

      "Well, he had plans there—plans of this Concession, and he was very secretive, as are so many foreigners. Still, he impressed both me and my father more favourably than do most foreigners we come across. As a matter of fact, we twice lunched with him at the Berkeley. He is a man with a tremendous flow of good spirits—speaking English very well, though of course with a foreign accent. Has he got into any trouble?" he looked curiously at the gentleman standing before him. He was not aware of Sir Angus Kinross's identity, but he knew that he was from Scotland Yard.

      "We shall know more about that when we have forced open the door of his office. I presume you would like to be present?"

      And the young man nodded. A grave, uneasy expression came over his face; he wondered if he had said too much of his pleasant client, and that client's private affairs."

      Chapter XVIII

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      They went up the lift in two parties: Sir Angus Kinross,

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