The tea that followed the fortune-telling was quite a success, as Miss Armour was a most amusing talker, and the rest of the party proved themselves to be good listeners. The old lady, being an invalid, had ample time for reading, and concerned herself chiefly with French Memoires, the cynical light-hearted tone of which appealed to her. But she was also well posted in English literature of the best kind, and could converse very ably — as she did — on leading authors and their works. Dan complimented her on the knowledge she had attained to.

“Oh, but it is no credit to me, Mr. Halliday,” Miss Armour protested. “I have so much time unoccupied, and grow weary of playing Patience and of knitting. It would be strange if I did not know something after years and years of reading. Books are my best friends.”

“Then Mrs. Jarsell is also a book, or say a human document,” said Dan politely.

“She is the best woman in the world,” cried Miss Armour, while Mrs. Jarsell bent her heavy white eyebrows in acknowledgement of the compliment. “You can have no idea how kind she is to me.”

“And to whom should I be kind, but to my old governess,” said Mrs. Jarsell in a gruff way. “Why, you have taught me all I know.”

“And I should think Miss Armour could teach a lot,” said Laurance, in his pleasant manner; “you know so much and have such tact, that you should be out in the world governing people, Miss Armour.”

She sent a sharp glance in his direction, as if to enquire what he exactly meant. Then she accepted the compliment with a charming laugh. “But for this dreadful paralysis, I should, indeed, love to be out in the world. I long to deal with human nature, and make people do what I want.”

“Can you?” asked Mildred, anxiously.

“Yes, child,” replied the exgoverness quietly, “because I base my diplomacy on the knowledge that everyone, with few exceptions, is ruled by self. Harp on that string, and you can manage anyone.”

“Miss Armour,” put in Mrs. Jarsell, in her deep voice, “rather talks of what she would do than what she does. Here, we see few people. I go up to town on occasions, but very rarely.”

“You must find it dull,” said Dan candidly.

For some reason Miss Armour appeared to think this speech amusing. “Oh, no; I don’t find life dull at all, I assure you. There is always a great deal to be done, when one knows how to set about the doing.”

“As how?” questioned the young man, somewhat puzzled.

“Books and music, and card-games and knitting-work,” said Mrs. Jarsell quickly, as if she did not approve of Miss Armour’s observations; “nothing more.”

“Quite so; nothing more,” assented the governess, but with a sudden flash of her brown eyes directed towards her friend. “Here we are out of the world. Do you stay long, Mr. Halliday?”

“Only for another couple of days, until I can get the machine.”

“You shall get it, I promise you,” said Mrs. Jarsell graciously, when the trio arose to depart. “Mr. Vincent owes me too much to disregard my request.”

“Of course,” chimed in Mildred. “Uncle Solomon would never be able to build his aeroplanes if you didn’t help him with money. Good-bye, Miss Armour.”

“Good-bye, dear child. I shall say au revoir to you, Mr. Halliday, as I shall expect you to come and see me again, if only to let me know that your fortune has come true.”

“Will it, do you think?”

“Yes,” said Miss Armour positively. “I am quite certain that the chance foretold by the cards will be given to you.”

Dan hoped it would, and thanked the lady for her happy prediction, after which he and Freddy, with Mildred between them, left the weird house, and walked up the darkened road towards the village. Halliday went at once to the “Peacock”, wishing to give Freddy and his beloved a chance of a tete-a-tete. They took it readily enough, as Laurance escorted the girl home. It was an hour before he returned to an overdue supper, which Mrs. Pelgrin served with fierce grumbling. After supper, Dan spoke his mind to Laurance.

“When I took up that extra pack of cards,” he said abruptly, “I smelt that same perfume that hung about Sir Charles’s clothes when he was dead.”

“What!” Freddy sat up aghast in his corner of the room, “the perfume about which Penn explained?”

“The same. But did he explain? It seems to me that he told a lie. If he only had one bottle, and the perfume is not procurable in England, seeing it is manufactured in Sumatra, how did Miss Armour become possessed of it?”

“It may not be the same scent,” said Laurance, still aghast; “you see a bird in every bush, Dan.”

“This is not a question for the eyes, but for the nose. I tell you, Freddy, that the perfume is exactly the same.”

“Why did you not ask Miss Armour about it?”

“I did; you heard me. She got it from Mrs. Jarsell, so she said. Now where did Mrs. Jarsell get it? From Sumatra?”

“Perhaps. Why not ask her straight out?”

“No,” said Dan decisively. “I shall not mention the subject to Mrs. Jarsell until I have questioned Marcus Penn once more. He told me a lie once, by saying that no one in this country possessed this especial perfume. He shan’t tell me another.”

“How do you mean to get him to tell you the truth?” asked Freddy dubiously.

“Never mind. I have some sort of a plan. I shan’t explain until it comes off. There is some connection between that perfume and the crime, I am certain,” concluded Dan, with a positive air.

Laurance wriggled uneasily. “Oh, that is absurd! On such an assumption, you suggest that Miss Armour knows about the matter.”

“About what matter?”

“You know-the gang.”

“Well,” said Halliday, smoking thoughtfully, “we are not entirely certain yet if such a gang exists. It’s all theory anyhow, in spite of the letters you drew from this person and the other. Penn certainly explained the scent, but told an obvious lie, since Miss Armour has it. I don’t say that she knows anything, but it is strange that she should possess the Sumatra perfume.”

“Other people can send the same perfume to England,” retorted Freddy. “Penn isn’t the sole person who has friends in Sumatra. Mrs. Jarsell, since she gave the scent to Miss Armour, may have friends in that island. Ask her.”

“No,” said Dan, very positively. “I shall ask no one until I make Penn speak out. In any case, I want to know why he told a lie.”

“Perhaps he didn’t.”

“I’m jolly well sure that he did.”

“Then, to put it plainly — you suspect Mrs. Jarsell?”

“To answer plainly, I don’t. There can be no connection between two harmless old ladies living in these wilds and the murder of Sir Charles. Yet this confounded scent forms a link between the dead man, Mrs. Jarsell, and Penn.”

Laurance rubbed his chin reflectively. “It’s odd, to say the least of it. I suppose you are certain that the perfume is the same?”

“I’ll swear to it.” Dan rose and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. “And I intend to learn how Mrs. Jarsell became possessed of it. I may be on a wild goose chase. All the same, with the stake I have, I can’t afford to lose an opportunity.”

“So Miss Armour said, when she told your fortune,” commented Freddy thoughtfully.

“Yes. I wonder what she meant?” Dan stretched himself. “I’m for bed. Ring the bell, and ask Mrs. Pelgrin for the spirits.”

Laurance, not feeling called upon to resume the conversation, as he was tired himself, did as he was told, and Mrs. Pelgrin, raw-boned and grim, bounced aggressively into the room, to demand fiercely what they required. She sniffed when whisky was ordered, but as its consumption would increase her bill, she brought in a bottle of “Johnny Walker” and a syphon of soda, without comment. When she turned to depart, and wished them good-night in tones suggestive of a gaoler, a sudden thought struck Dan. It would not be amiss, he thought, to question Mrs. Pelgrin concerning the hermit ladies. Not that he expected a great deal to result from his examination, as the worthy woman was a she-cat, and what she knew would probably have to be clawed out of her.

“We had tea at the Grange today, Mrs. Pelgrin,” said Dan casually.

The landlady wrapped her hands in her apron, and wheeled grimly at the door to speak agressively. “Ho!” she grunted.

“What’s that?”

“I said ‘Ho,’ and ‘Ho’s’ all I’m going to say.”

“Well,” drawled Freddy with a shrug, “you can’t say much less, you know.”

“Less or much, I don’t say anything,” retorted Mrs. Pelgrin, screwing up her hard mouth and nodding.

“Nobody wants you to say anything,” remarked Dan lazily, but on the alert.

Of course this speech opened the landlady’s mouth. “People say as it’s queer two ladies should live like dormice in a haystack,” she observed significantly.

“That’s like people. They will meddle with what doesn’t concern them.”

“Not me,” snorted Mrs. Pelgrin violently, and epigrammatically. “I don’t say what I could say, for what I could say wouldn’t be what’s right to say.”

“Wouldn’t it?” inquired Freddy, innocently.

“No, it wouldn’t, Sir; I’m not to be pumped,” cried Mrs. Pelgrin, “try you ever so hard. So there!” and she screwed up her mouth tighter than ever.

“Who is pumping?” asked Dan coolly; “I simply remarked that we had tea with Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour today.”

“Friends of yours, no doubt?” snapped the landlady.

“I never saw them before today, Mrs. Pelgrin.”

“Then don’t see them again,” advised the woman sharply.

“Thank you for that advice. Anything wrong?”

“Wrong! Wrong! What should be wrong?” Mrs. Pelgrin became more violent than ever. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“Then that’s all right,” said Halliday coolly. “Good-night.”

Mrs. Pelgrin stared hard at him, evidently wondering why he did not press his questions, seeing how significant a remark she had made. The idea that her conversation was trivial in his eyes hurt her self-esteem. She gave another hint that she knew something. “I wonder how those ladies make their money,” she observed casually to the ceiling.

“Ah, I wonder,” agreed Dan, making a covert sign that Freddy should restrain the question now on the tip of his tongue.

“Three motor-cars,” said Mrs. Pelgrin musingly, “four servants, women all and sluts at that, I do say, with a house like a palace inside, whatever it may be to look at from the road. All that needs money, Mr. Halliday.”

“Quite so. Nothing for nothing in this greedy world.”

“Ten years have those ladies been here,” continued the landlady, exasperated by this indifference as Dan intended she should be, “and dull they must find that old house. To be sure, Miss Armour is ill, and never moves from her chair — so they say,” she ended emphatically and stared at Halliday.

“So who say?” he inquired phlegmatically.

“Everyone, Sir. She’s paralysed — so they say.”

“And Mrs. Jarsell attends to her like an angel,” remarked Dan suavely; “they say that also, you know.”

“Why do you advise us not to see the ladies again?” asked Freddy, who could not longer rein in his curiosity.

Halliday was annoyed by the question, as he thought it would dry up the stream of Mrs. Pelgrin’s hin............