drive or walk alone, without feeling that my shadow is not far away. I begin to fear to trust my servants, and to realize that I have an enemy. Mr. Stanhope, I want you to find out who my enemy is.”

Behind his starry mask, her listener smiled at this woman-like statement of the case. Then he said, tersely:

[74]“You say that you are being spied upon. How do you know this?”

[74]

“At first by intuition, I think; a certain vague, uneasy consciousness of a strange, inharmonious presence near me. Being thus put on my guard and roused to watchfulness, I have contrived to see, on various occasions, the same figure dogging my steps.”

“Um! Did you know this figure?”

“No; it was strange to me, but always the same.”

“Then your spy is a blunderer. Let us try and sift this matter: A lady may be shadowed for numerous reasons; do you know why you are watched?”

“N—no,” hesitatingly.

“So,” thought the detective, “she is not quite frank, with me.” Then aloud: “Do you suspect any one?”

“No.”

“Madam, I must ask some personal questions. Please answer them frankly and truly, or not at all, and be sure that every question is necessary, every answer important.”

The lady bows her head, and he proceeds:

“First, then, have you a secret?”

She starts, turns her head away, and is silent.

The detective notes the movement, smiles again, and goes on:

“Let us advance a step; you have a secret.”

“Why—do you—say that?”

“Because you have yourself told me as much. We never feel that uneasy sense of espionage, so well described by you, madam, until we have something to conceal—the man who carries no purse, fears no robber. You have a secret. This has made you watchful, and, being watchful, you discover[75] that you have—what? An enemy, or only a 

 Prev. P 44/322 next