“Then you don’t actually know that it was the dressmaker?”

“The servant can give no accurate description, except that she was middle-aged, dressed in deep mourning, and wore a veil. She said she was the dressmaker.”

“Then the woman escaped from the house without being seen?”

“Yes,” her ladyship replied. “No one heard a sound after poor Beryl entered the room. What occurred there no one knows.”

“We only know what occurred by the effects,” I said. “A desperate attempt was made upon her life. This is no mere fainting-fit.”

“But who could this mysterious woman have been?” her ladyship exclaimed. “It is absolutely astounding!” A thought flashed across my mind at that moment. Could the visitor in black actually have been that dreaded person of whom even Tattersett had spoken with bated breath—La Gioia?


Chapter Eighteen.

The Mystery of the Morning-Room.