Scottish caution was not to be overcome by an appeal of that sort.

“I cannot go beyond what I have said,” was the reply.  “If you like to ask at his house—­”

“O, ring off!” cried Theydon, who pictured the secretary as a lanky hollow-cheeked Scot, a model of discretion and trustworthiness, no doubt, but utterly unequal to a crisis demanding some measure of self-confident initiative.  In reality, Mr. Macdonald was short and stout, and quite a jovial little man.

After an exasperating delay, he got into communication with the Forbes mansion in Fortescue Square.

“I’m Mr. Frank Theydon,” he said, striving to speak unconcernedly.  “Is Mr. Forbes in?”

“No, sir.”

“Is that you, Tomlinson?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Forbes at once?”

“Isn’t he at his office, sir?”

“No.  He will not be there till 12 o’clock.”

A pause of indecision on Tomlinson’s part.  Then, a possible solution of the difficulty.

“Would you care to have a word with Miss Evelyn, sir?”

“O, yes, yes.”

Theydon blurted out this emphatic acceptance of the butler’s suggestion without a thought as to its possible consequences.  He was racking his brain in a frenzy of uncertainty as to how he should frame his words when he heard quite clearly a woman’s footsteps on the parquet flooring, and caught Evelyn Forbes’s voice saying to Tomlinson:  “How fortunate!  Mr. Theydon is the very person I wished to speak to, but I simply dared not ring him up.”

The slight incident only provided Theydon with a new source of wonderment.  Why should Evelyn Forbes want speech with him at that early hour?  Perhaps she would explain.  He could only hope so, and trust to luck in the choice of his own phrases.

“That you, Mr. Theydon?” came the girl’s voice, sweet in its cadence yet ominously eager.  “How nice of you to anticipate my unspoken thought!  I have been horribly anxious ever since I read of that awful affair at Innesmore Mansions.  That poor lady’s flat is next door to yours, is it not?”

“Yes, but—­”

“O, you cannot choke off a woman’s curiosity quite so easily.  You see, I happen to know that Mrs. Lester’s sad death affects my father in some way, and I realize now that you two were just on pins and needles to get rid of me last night so that you might talk freely.”

“Miss Forbes, I assure you—­”

“Wait till I’ve finished, and you will not be under the necessity of telling me any polite fibs.  You men are all alike.  You think the giddy feminine brain is not fitted to cope with mysteries, and that is where you are utterly mistaken.  A woman’s intuition often peers deeper than a man’s logic.  I—­”

“Do forgive me,” broke in Theydon despairingly, “but I am really most anxious to know how and where I can get a word with your father.  I would not be so rude as to interrupt you if I hadn’t the best of excuses.  Tell me where to find him now, and I promise to give you a call immediately afterward.”