I asked. "Could his lordship have made a mistake?"
"No! I think not. We have been cleverly duped, that's all."
"What do you mean? How have we been duped? What makes you think so?"
"I didn't think so until we passed through the gate on our way out. Now I'm certain of it. Come across the street."
I followed him across the road to a small plain-looking house, with a neatly-curtained bow window, and a brass plate on the front door. From the latter I discovered that the proprietor of the place was a dressmaker, but I was completely at a loss to understand why we were visiting her.
When the door was opened, the inspector asked if Miss Tiffins were at home, and being told that she was, enquired if we might see her. The maid went away to find out, and presently returned and begged us to follow her. We did so down a small passage towards the door of the room where was the bow window.
Miss Tiffins was a lady of uncertain age, with a prim, precise manner, wearing a cap and corkscrew curls. She seemed at a loss to understand our errand, but bade us be seated, and then asked in what way she could be of service to us.
"In the first place, madam," said the inspector, "let me tell you that I am an Officer of Police. A serious crime has been perpetrated, and I have reason to believe that it may be in your power to give us a clue to the persons who committed it."
"You frighten me, sir," replied the lady. "I cannot at all see how I can help you. I lead a life of the
