It seems that all along she’s been on the track of the “man in the brown suit.” Apparently she didn’t spot him on the Kilmorden ⁠—in fact, she hardly had the chance, but she’s now very busy cabling home: “How I journeyed out with the murderer,” and inventing highly fictitious stories of “What he said to me,” etc. I know how these things are done. I do them myself, in my reminiscences when Pagett will let me. And of course one of Nasby’s efficient staff will brighten up the details still more, so that when it appears in the Daily Budget Rayburn won’t recognize himself.

The girl’s clever, though. All on her own, apparently, she’s ferreted out the identity of the woman who was killed in my house. She was a Russian dancer called Nadina. I asked Anne Beddingfeld if she was sure of this. She replied that it was merely a deduction⁠—quite in the Sherlock Holmes manner. However, I gather that she had cabled it home to Nasby as a proved fact. Women have these intuitions⁠—I’ve no doubt that Anne Beddingfeld is perfectly right in her guess⁠—but to call it a deduction is absurd.

How she ever got on the staff of the Daily Budget is more than I can imagine. But she is the kind of young woman who does these things. Impossible to withstand her. She is full of coaxing ways that mask an invincible determination. Look how she has got into my private car!