Mr. Hornblower nodded and passed out after them, and Godfrey and I were left alone together.

We both sat down, and for a moment neither of us spoke.

“Well!” said Godfrey, at last.  “Well! what a story it would make!  And I can’t use it!  It’s a bitter reflection, Lester!”

“It would certainly shake the pillars of society,” I agreed.  “I’m rather shaken myself.”

“So am I!  I was all at sea for a while—­I was dumb with astonishment when I heard you and the veiled lady talking about the secret drawer —­I could see you laughing at me!  I don’t know the whole story yet.  How did she happen to come to you?”

I told him of Hornblower’s visit, of the story he told me, and of the arrangement we had made.  Godfrey nodded thoughtfully when I had finished.

“The story is straight, of course,” he said.  “Hornblower would not be engaged in anything tricky.  Besides, I recognised the lady.  I suppose you did, too.”

“Yes, I have seen pictures of her.  And I admired her for putting back her veil.”

“So did I. She has changed since the day of her wedding, Lester—­she was a smooth-faced girl, then!  Three years of life with her duke have left their mark on her!”

He fell silent, staring thoughtfully at the carpet.  Then he shook himself.

“And the maid’s story was most interesting,” he added.  “Nevertheless, there are still a number of things which are not quite clear to me.”

“There is one thing I don’t understand, myself,” I said.  “I hadn’t any idea this was the right cabinet.  I didn’t see how it could be.”

“That’s it, exactly.  How did it happen, when the veiled lady went to Armand & Son in Paris, that she was directed to Philip Vantine?  According to his own story, he did not purchase this cabinet; he had never seen it before; it was presumably shipped him by mistake; Armand & Son cable you that it was a mistake; and yet they cite Vantine as the purchaser.  There is something twisted somewhere, Lester; just where I’ll try to find out.”

“Which reminds me that Armand’s representative hasn’t been around yet.  No doubt he can straighten the matter out.”

“It won’t do any harm to hear his story, anyway,” Godfrey agreed.  “Now let’s have a look at that drawer.”

It was standing open as we had left it, and Godfrey pushed it back into place, called my attention to the cunning way in which its outline was concealed by the inlay about it.  Then he worked the spring, the handle fell into place, and he drew the drawer out again, as far as it would come, and examined it carefully.

“The fellow who devised that was a genius,” he said, admiringly, pushing it back into place.  “I wonder what its contents have been from the days of Madame de Montespan down to the present?  Love letters, mostly, I suppose, since they are the things which need concealment most.  Don’t you wish this drawer could tell its secrets, Lester?”