need not waste any time at all," began Mrs. Sparflight. He held up his hand deprecatingly.
"—Scotland Yard," he concluded, fixing his eyes upon her. The start she gave was helpful. He went on briskly. "Last night you were at a certain restaurant. You departed during the thunder-storm in a limousine driven by a young man whose face is familiar to me. In short, I am looking for a man who bears a most startling resemblance to him. May I prevail upon you to volunteer a bit of information?"
Mrs. Sparflight betrayed agitation. A hunted, troubled look came into her eyes.
"I—I don't quite understand," she stammered. "Who—who did you say you were?"
"My name is Chambers, Alfred Chambers, Scotland Yard. In the event that you are ignorant of the character of the place called Scotland Yard, I may explain that—"
"I know what it is," she interrupted hastily. "What is it that you want of me, Mr. Chambers?" She was rapidly gaining control of her wits.
"Very little, madam. I should very much like to know whose car took you away from Sprinkler's last night."
She looked him straight in the eye. "I haven't the remotest idea," she said.
He nodded his head gently. "Would you, on the other hand, object to telling me how long James has been driving for her ladyship?"
This was a facer. Mrs. Sparflight's gaze wavered.
"Her ladyship?" she murmured weakly.
