Soon there came a familiar rap and a welcome cup of tea.
She was sipping it, luxuriously, when there suddenly came a very different kind of rap on the door.

It was a sharp, insistent knock, and before she could call out "Come in," the door opened, and a singular-looking figure advanced into the luxurious-looking, low-ceilinged bedroom.
"Excuse me coming up like this, Modam.

But I'm afraid of losing my train." The speaker was small and stout, with a sallow face which might once have held a certain gipsy-like charm, for, in the candlelight, the luminous dark eyes were by far its most arresting feature.

She wore a small, old-fashioned-looking, red velvet bonnet perched on her elaborately dressed hair.
Enid Crofton looked at her odd-looking visitor with astonishment.

Who on earth could this be?
Certainly not Piper's wife.