Miss Baylis, on her part, looked Spargo over as if she was half-minded to order him to instant execution.  And Spargo was so impressed by her that he made a profound bow and found a difficulty in finding his tongue.

“Mr. Spargo?” she said in a deep voice which seemed peculiarly suited to her.  “Of, I see, the Watchman?  You wish to speak to me?”

Spargo again bowed in silence.  She signed him to the window near which they were standing.

“Open the casement, if you please,” she commanded him.  “We will walk in the garden.  This is not private.”

Spargo obediently obeyed her orders; she swept through the opened window and he followed her.  It was not until they had reached the bottom of the garden that she spoke again.

“I understand that you desire to ask me some question about John Maitland, of Market Milcaster?” she said.  “Before you put it.  I must ask you a question.  Do you wish any reply I may give you for publication?”

“Not without your permission,” replied Spargo.  “I should not think of publishing anything you may tell me except with your express permission.”

She looked at him gloomily, seemed to gather an impression of his good faith, and nodded her head.

“In that case,” she said, “what do you want to ask?”

“I have lately had reason for making certain enquiries about John Maitland,” answered Spargo.  “I suppose you read the newspapers and possibly the Watchman, Miss Baylis?”

But Miss Baylis shook her head.

“I read no newspapers,” she said.  “I have no interest in the affairs of the world.  I have work which occupies all my time:  I give my whole devotion to it.”

“Then you have not recently heard of what is known as the Marbury case—­a case of a man who was found murdered?” asked Spargo.

“I have not,” she answered.  “I am not likely to hear such things.”

Spargo suddenly realized that the power of the Press is not quite as great nor as far-reaching as very young journalists hold it to be, and that there actually are, even in London, people who can live quite cheerfully without a newspaper.  He concealed his astonishment and went on.

“Well,” he said, “I believe that the murdered man, known to the police as John Marbury, was, in reality, your brother-in-law, John Maitland.  In fact, Miss Baylis, I’m absolutely certain of it!”

He made this declaration with some emphasis, and looked at his stern companion to see how she was impressed.  But Miss Baylis showed no sign of being impressed.

“I can quite believe that, Mr. Spargo,” she said coldly.  “It is no surprise to me that John Maitland should come to such an end.  He was a thoroughly bad and unprincipled man, who brought the most terrible disgrace on those who were, unfortunately, connected with him.  He was likely to die a bad man’s death.”

“I may ask you a few questions about him?” suggested Spargo in his most insinuating manner.