"You forget this," she remarked. "If this Lady Riversreade is identical with the Mrs. Whittingham of ten years ago, she'd remember my name—Hannaford! She's not likely to have forgotten Superintendent Hannaford of Sellithwaite!"
"Exactly—but I've thought of that little matter," replied Hetherwick. "Call yourself by some other name. Your mother's, for instance."
"That was Featherstone," said Rhona.
"There you are! Go as Miss Featherstone. As for your address, give your aunt's address at Tooting. Easy enough, you see," laughed Hetherwick. "Once you begin it properly."
"There's another thing, though," she objected. "References! She'll want those."
"Just as easy," answered Hetherwick. "Give me as one and Kenthwaite as the other. I'll speak to him about it. Two barristers of the Middle Temple!—excellent! Come!—all you've got to do is to work the scheme out fully and carry it out with assurance, and you don't know what we might discover."
Rhona considered matters awhile, watching him steadily.
"You think that—somehow—this woman may be at the back of the mystery surrounding my grandfather's murder?" she suddenly asked.
"I think it's quite within the bounds of probability," he answered.
"All right," she said abruptly. "I'll go. To-morrow morning, I suppose?"