"Do you know," Wrayson demanded, dropping his voice a little, "that, but for my moral, if not actual perjury, Louise herself would have been charged with the murder of Morris Barnes?"
"She had a narrow escape," the Baroness admitted.
"She had a narrow escape," Wrayson declared, "but the unfortunate part of the affair is, that she is not even now safe!"
The Baroness looked at him curiously. She was in the act of drawing on her gloves, but her fingers suddenly became rigid.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I mean," Wrayson said, "that another person saw her come out of the flats that night. It was a friend of mine, who kept silence at first because he believed that it was a private assignation of my own. Since then events have occurred to make him think differently. He has gone over to the other side. He is spending his time with young Sydney Barnes, and he has set himself to discover the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder. He has even gone so far as to give me warning that I should be better out of England."
"Who is this person?" the Baroness asked calmly.
"His name is Stephen Heneage, and he is a member of my club, the club to which Louise's father also belongs," Wrayson replied.
The Baroness suddenly dropped her veil, but not before Wrayson had seen a sudden change in her face. He remembered suddenly that Heneage was no stranger to her, he remembered the embarrassment of their meeting at the Alhambra.
"You know him, of course," he repeated. "Heneage is not a man to be trifled with. He has had experience
