Francis Ledsam, alert, well-satisfied with himself and the world, the echo of a little buzz of congratulations still in his ears, paused on the steps of the modern Temple of Justice to light a cigarette before calling for a taxi to take him to his club.

Visions of a whisky and soda--his throat was a little parched--and a rubber of easy-going bridge at his favourite table, were already before his eyes.

A woman who had followed him from the Court touched him on the shoulder.
"Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr.Ledsam ?" The barrister frowned slightly as he swung around to confront his questioner.

It was such a familiar form of address.
"What do you want ?" he asked, a little curtly.
"A few minutes' conversation with you," was the calm reply.

"The matter is important." The woman's tone and manner, notwithstanding her plain, inconspicuous clothes, commanded attention.