I.D.
New Scotland Yard, S.W.I.
"Oh, dear," she said sleepily, "what an appallingly early visitor. Is
the bath ready yet, Janet?"
"I'm afraid not," replied the maid, a plain, elderly woman of the
old-fashioned useful servant type. "Shall I take a kettle into the
bathroom?"
"Yes--that will have to do. Tell Inspector Kerry that I shall not be
long."
Five minutes later Margaret entered her little consulting-room, where
Kerry, having adjusted his tie, was standing before the mirror in the
overmantle, staring at a large photograph of the charming lady doctor
in military uniform. Kerry's fierce eyes sparkled appreciatively as
his glance rested on the tall figure arrayed in a woollen dressing-
gown, the masculine style of which by no means disguised the beauty of
Margaret's athletic figure. She had hastily arranged her bright hair
with deliberate neglect of all affectation. She belonged to that
ultra-modern school which scorns to sue masculine admiration, but
which cannot dispense with it nevertheless. She aspired to be assessed
upon an intellectual basis, an ambition which her unfortunate good
looks rendered difficult of achievement.
"Good morning, Inspector," she said composedly. "I was expecting you."
"Really, miss?" Kerry stared curiously.
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