They followed the girl into the hall, and into a room off the hall to
which she led the way. A small Pomeranian dog which lay on an easy
chair, sprang up barking shrilly at their entrance, but at the command of
the girl it settled down on its silk cushion again. The apartment was a
small sitting-room, daintily furnished in excellent feminine taste. Both
police officers took in the contents of the room with the glance of
trained observers, and both noticed that, prominent among the ornaments
on the mantelpiece, stood a photograph of the late Sir Horace Fewbanks in
a handsome silver frame.
The photograph made it easy for Inspector Chippenfield to enter upon the
object of the visit of himself and his subordinate to the flat.
"I see you have a photograph of Sir Horace Fewbanks there," he said, in
what he intended to be an easy conversational tone, waving his hand
towards the mantelpiece.
The wistful expression of the girl's face deepened as she followed
his glance.
"Yes," she said simply. "It is so terrible about him."
"Was he a--a relative of yours?" asked the inspector.
She had come to the conclusion they were police officers and that they
were aware of the position she occupied.
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