Mr.Richard Vanderpole was more than a little puzzled.
"Of course, Penelope," he said, "I don't expect you to tell me anything which you feel that you oughtn't to.

There is one thing, however, which I must ask you." She nodded.
"Well ?" "I should like to know what the mischief my being in the diplomatic service has to do with it ?" "If I explained that," she answered, "I should be telling you everything I haven't quite made up my mind to do that yet." "Tell me this ?" he asked.

"Would that hint which he dropped when he was here last help you to solve the mystery of his murder ?" "It might," she admitted.
"Then I think," he said, "apart from any other reason, you ought to tell somebody.

The police at present don't seem to have the ghost of a clue." "They are not likely to find one," she answered, "unless I help them." "Say, Penelope," he exclaimed, "you are not in earnest ?" "I am," she assured him.

"It is exactly as I say.