“ Who is Mr. Brown? ”

Her quick eyes saw the sudden paling of the beautiful face. With an effort Mrs. Vandemeyer pulled herself together and tried to resume her former manner. But the attempt was a mere parody.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“You can’t have learnt much about us if you don’t know that nobody knows who Mr. Brown is .⁠ ⁠…”

“You do,” said Tuppence quietly.

Again the colour deserted the other’s face.

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know,” said the girl truthfully. “But I’m sure.”

Mrs. Vandemeyer stared in front of her for a long time.

“Yes,” she said hoarsely, at last, “ I know. I was beautiful, you see⁠—very beautiful⁠—”

“You are still,” said Tuppence with admiration.

Mrs. Vandemeyer shook her head. There was a strange gleam in her electric-blue eyes.

“Not beautiful enough,” she said in a soft dangerous voice. “Not⁠—beautiful⁠—enough! And sometimes, lately, I’ve been afraid.⁠ ⁠… It’s dangerous to know too much!” She leaned forward across the table. “Swear that my name shan’t be brought into it⁠—that no one shall ever know.”