Hetty hesitated. It seemed hardly fair. And yet so much might depend upon her speaking. Nothing could save the Countess from arrest now. Rapidly, but clearly, she told Prout all that there was to tell.
"That clenches it," he said. "Now where did they hide themselves?"
A bell rang somewhere overhead, and Prout was summoned by a tall footman, who sniffed at him suspiciously as he led the way upstairs. In a magnificent wrap Leona Lalage sat. There was a cup of coffee before her. In a flash she saw exactly what had happened. Her hand did not shake now, the cigarette between her lips was steady. She had known that sooner or later this blow must fall.
It was only in a very strong light that traces of last night's adventures could be seen on her face. Just a little sigh of passionate regret escaped her, and then she was her own calm smiling self again.
"I fancy I have seen you before," she said. "Are you not the detective who has the Corner House mystery in hand?"
Prout admitted that such was the case.
"I am not here about that," he said, "at least, not for the present. I am afraid I have some bad news for you. I am speaking to the lady who is known to people generally as Countess Lalage."
"I am Countess Lalage," was the calm reply.
"As you like, madame," Prout said indifferently. "I have a warrant for the arrest of Leona Lalage on a charge of attempted murder. I can't say any more at present, and it will be as well for you to say as little as possible."
The Countess bowed; not for an instant did she change colour.