"Indeed, there is. Are you sure you didn't drop it?"

"Those are all we found."

She looked distractedly round the room.

"I must find it," she insisted. "It must be somewhere here. He threatened to show that one, in particular, to Felix."

"We sifted everything. He must have burnt it."

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. Please let me look. I know where he kept all his things." She hunted frantically through all the rooms. Once she stopped and looked at him.

"You wouldn't—?"

"I have held back none of your letters, on my word of honour."

"Forgive me," she said, and fell to hunting again. At last she confessed herself defeated.

"If it's found you shall have it," Alleyn assured her. She thanked him, but was clearly not satisfied. At last he persuaded her to stop hunting.

"I'll telephone for a taxi," he said.

"No, don't do that. I'll walk to the corner and get one. I'd rather."

"I'll come with you. I've just got to lock up."

"No. We'll say good night now," she laughed. "I can't be seen out with you—you're too compromising."

"Nous avons changé tout cela."

"You think so, do you, inspector? Good night."

"Good night, Stephanie. If I weren't a policeman—"

"Yes?"

"Give me that key, madam."

"Oh! The key of the flat. Where did I put it? Now that's lost."

"Is it on the chain?"

He pulled at the chain round her neck, found the key, which had been hidden under her dress, and slipped it off. This brought them closer together, and he saw she was trembling.

"You are quite done up," he said. "Shan't I come with you? Give me that pleasure."

"No, please. Good night again."

He touched her hand.

"Good night."

She took a step towards him, looked into his eyes, and smiled. In a moment he had her close-held in his arms.

"What's this?" he said roughly. "I know you're everything I most deplore—and yet—look at this. Shall I kiss you?"

"Why not?"

"Every reason why not."

"How strangely you look at me. As if you were examining my face inch by inch."

He released her suddenly.

"Please go," he said.

In a moment she had gone. He leaned from the window and watched her come out on the pavement below. She turned towards South Eaton Place. A few seconds later, a man came out of an alley-way by the flat, paused to light a cigarette, and then strolled off in the same direction.

Alleyn closed the window carefully and put out the light. In walking to the door he stubbed his toe on the little iron-bound box which was still lying where she had dropped it. He stooped down and opened it. A look of intense relief lightened his face. He picked it up and went out of the flat.

Left to itself the telephone rang again, insistently.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Inquest