CHAPTER XLVII. FLOWN.

With a white oblong sheet of paper in his pocket with the signature of the chief magistrate at Bow Street, Prout went down jauntily to call upon Lawrence. The latter looked at him smilingly.

"You are going to arrest Countess Lalage?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know anything about that," Prout said, taken aback. "But I've certainly got a warrant for the arrest of Leona Lalage. Mr. Lawrence, I've solved the problem of the blacklead I found in the Corner House."

"That's clever. How did you manage it?"

"Well, fortune was kind to me. I couldn't think what that blacklead was doing there."

"I could have told you. I knew that as far back ago as the first inquest on Leon Lalage. Our friend the Countess has a fast motor. It was so fast that she could be in two places at once. But it became necessary to disguise the motor--the black motor that Miss Lawrence and the newspaper man saw. It must be a disguise that would come off easily. What better than blacklead, that could be removed from the bright parts with a damp rag and restored with a touch? The black motor came to grief last night, I see."

"Ah! you read that in the paper, sir. And, of course, you knew all about the attempt on the life of Mr. Charlton by the fair Spaniard. Well, she was seen to escape in that motor, and near the scene of the smash we found the wig. The manufacturer of the car has been seen and he is prepared to swear whom he sold it to. Therefore, knowing what we do I took the liberty of swearing an information before Sir John at Bow Street, and I've got the warrant for the arrest of Leona Lalage in my pocket. We shall get her on one charge if we fail in another."

"You can't fail," said Lawrence quietly. "When I come to give evidence the character of my friend Dr. Bruce will be restored beyond question. By the way, I have not heard how Mr. Charlton is today."

Prout remarked that Charlton was better. Fortunately no great damage had been done. He was suffering from some loss of blood, but in a day or two the patient would be able to give evidence. There would be enough sensation for the papers tomorrow.

The detective went calmly on his way to Lytton Avenue. The Countess was not down yet, but if the caller would send up his business it should be attended to. Prout was firm, but his business was for the private ear of the lady of the house alone, and he would wait her good pleasure. He was quite easy in his mind, seeing that he was not alone, but accompanied by two officers in plain clothes, one being stationed in the front of the house and the other at the rear.

It was Hetty who came back with the second message that the Countess would see her visitor presently in her dressing-room. The girl started as she recognized the features of the detective.

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked.

Prout gave his information in a low voice. He could trust Hetty, and besides, she might have some valuable information to impart.

"Did you see anything queer last night, Miss?" he asked.

Hetty hesitated. It seemed hardly fair. And yet so much might depend upon her speaking. Nothing could save the Countess from arrest now. Rapidly, but clearly, she told Prout all that there was to tell.

"That clenches it," he said. "Now where did they hide themselves?"

A bell rang somewhere overhead, and Prout was summoned by a tall footman, who sniffed at him suspiciously as he led the way upstairs. In a magnificent wrap Leona Lalage sat. There was a cup of coffee before her. In a flash she saw exactly what had happened. Her hand did not shake now, the cigarette between her lips was steady. She had known that sooner or later this blow must fall.

It was only in a very strong light that traces of last night's adventures could be seen on her face. Just a little sigh of passionate regret escaped her, and then she was her own calm smiling self again.

"I fancy I have seen you before," she said. "Are you not the detective who has the Corner House mystery in hand?"

Prout admitted that such was the case.

"I am not here about that," he said, "at least, not for the present. I am afraid I have some bad news for you. I am speaking to the lady who is known to people generally as Countess Lalage."

"I am Countess Lalage," was the calm reply.

"As you like, madame," Prout said indifferently. "I have a warrant for the arrest of Leona Lalage on a charge of attempted murder. I can't say any more at present, and it will be as well for you to say as little as possible."

The Countess bowed; not for an instant did she change colour.

"I'll dress at once," she said. "My bedroom door is locked, so this is the only way I can escape. Get out something dark for me to wear, Hannah."

She called thus to her maid inside. With a smile she intimated to Prout that she might keep him a little time waiting. It did not matter how long seeing that he had his bird fast in the toils.

A quarter of an hour passed, and then a trim maid with dark short hair, and in the smart starched style peculiar to good servants, appeared. She gave one glance of indifference at Prout, and then passed down the stairs. From his window he could see the very neat figure crossing the square.

Time passed and he grew impatient. He coughed as he looked into the bedroom. Then he said something strong under his breath. Nobody was there. The opposite door was locked, but the bird had flown.

With a disturbed face Prout passed into the street. The men were still there.

"See anybody leave the house?" Prout asked.

"Nobody but a servant, and a pretty one," the other said.

"Then you be after her as soon as possible," Prout groaned. "We're done, Smithers. That smart lady's-maid was Countess Lalage!"