The lady stiffened slightly.
"Are you a friend of Miss Masters?" she inquired, shortly.
"I am not," Monsieur Dupont admitted frankly. "I have never seen her. It is a few hours ago that I heard her name for the first time."
"I really cannot answer any questions to a stranger," said the lady stiffly. "I don't know you."
Monsieur Dupont bowed.
"If you did, madame," he said, "I should be the proudest of men. Do me the favor to read this letter."
He produced the letter from the French Embassy, and handed it to her. She read it, and was duly impressed.
"Of course I'll do anything for the French Embassy," she said, returning the letter with dignity. "Miss Masters wasn't what you might call a friend of mine. I used to speak to her because she lived in the next house, but it didn't go beyond that. She kept very much to herself. I don't want to say anything at all unkind, but very few ladies in our set knew her. Of course it wasn't her fault, but she was not exactly classy. And when one lives in a neighborhood like this, it's class that tells."
Monsieur Dupont bowed again.
"Obviously, madame," he said.