Tuppence felt a sensation of relief once she was out of the
other's presence. Once again she admitted to herself that she was
afraid, horribly afraid, of the beautiful woman with the cruel
eyes.

In the midst of a final desultory polishing of her silver,
Tuppence was disturbed by the ringing of the front door bell, and
went to answer it. This time the visitor was neither Whittington
nor Boris, but a man of striking appearance.

Just a shade over average height, he nevertheless conveyed the
impression of a big man. His face, clean-shaven and exquisitely
mobile, was stamped with an expression of power and force far
beyond the ordinary. Magnetism seemed to radiate from him.

Tuppence was undecided for the moment whether to put him down as
an actor or a lawyer, but her doubts were soon solved as he gave
her his name: Sir James Peel Edgerton.

She looked at him with renewed interest. This, then, was the
famous K.C. whose name was familiar all over England. She had
heard it said that he might one day be Prime Minister. He was
known to have refused office in the interests of his profession,
preferring to remain a simple Member for a Scotch constituency.

Tuppence went back to her pantry thoughtfully. The great man had
impressed her. She understood Boris's agitation. Peel Edgerton
would not be an easy man to deceive.