"I am in a way," she admitted, blushing guiltily. "I am so anxious to learn the truth and revenge my mother. If you won't search, I shall search myself."
Shawe could do nothing in the face of this determination but agree. He scribbled Perry Toat's address on his card and gave it to the girl. Audrey slipped it into the dingy envelope which held the anonymous letter, with the intention of calling on the detective whenever she could.
"If you go on with the matter I shall help you to the best of my ability," he said earnestly, as she turned away. "Don't think that I do not desire your wish to be gratified. I only want you to be happy."
"I won't be happy until I learn who murdered my dear mother," said the girl, obstinately; then she took his arm, and they walked across to the gate near the Palace. "But I am glad that you will help me. All I ask is that you will let me assist you."
"You shall go to Perry Tat yourself and take an immediate hand in the game we are playing," said the barrister, decidedly, "as I see that in no other way will you be satisfied. And now let me see you home."
"Don't come too far with me, dear. My father may have risen by this time, and if he meets you there will be trouble."
"I don't mind that," said Shawe, throwing back his well-shaped head. "I am not afraid of Sir Joseph. By the way, talking about the possibility of that clock being wrong, was your father with you in the car?"
"No. He went out at six o'clock for one of his prowls."
"What do you mean by one of his prowls?" asked Shawe, surprised.
"Well, papa, for all our talking, is really kind when he chooses. He is sorry for poor people--for the really ragged, unwashed poor, that is--and sometimes he goes out quietly and wanders round the streets, giving money to beggars and helping those who need help."