"_Miss Maud Duggan._ H'm. Scotch, I take it. And what's this! _School friend of Miss Ailsa Lorne._--Ailsa Lorne, eh? Haven't heard from her in a month of Sundays. Said her business was important--eh, Petrie?"
"Oh, well, then, show her up. This cipher business requires entire quiet, and so long as I can't seem to enforce that, I might as well attend to the matter in hand."
"Very good, sir." Bowing, Petrie withdrew. Meanwhile Mr. Narkom slipped his arms into his coat--it was June, and the heat-wave had London in its grip, and allied with an equally warm problem he had thought himself fully justified in shedding it--and sat at his desk, drumming his fingers upon the top of it to the tune of "God Save the King."
A moment later "Miss Maud Duggan" was standing before him--a slim, pale-faced woman with dark-ringed eyes and a twitching, nervous mouth. She came toward him, hands clasped over heaving breast, entire body aflame with the intensity of her quest. Mr. Narkom, waving her to a seat with none too much cordiality, mentally labelled her "highly strung," and seated himself with an effort to interest himself in what she had to say.
"Miss Duggan, I believe?" he began, with a creditable attempt at cordiality. "Friend of Miss Lorne's?"
"That's right," she said in a hesitating voice, with just a trace of Scotch accent that told of the part of the British Isles which gave her birth. "I _am_ a friend of Ailsa's--an old school friend--although we haven't seen each other for a matter of five years. But I wrote to her--when the trouble began--and she told me to come to you. Here is her letter, if you care to see it."
"I prefer to listen to your version of the story first, my dear young lady," returned Mr. Narkom, with a reassuring smile. She was palpably nervous. "You are in trouble, of course? No one ever visits these offices for any other reason. Now just set yourself at ease and tell me all about it. Is it a family matter, or what?"
"Yes, it is a family matter. And a very serious one at that, Mr. Narkom," returned Miss Duggan in her rapid voice. "And I am so worried I don't know which way to turn--and so, in desperation, I came down--all the way from Scotland--to consult you. You will help me, I know. It is about my father. His life is in danger, in very grave danger, and I am afraid that even now, while I am away, something may happen to him, and that woman practise her cunning successfully at last."