‘Because ever since you came into this room you have been acting a part. You did not wish to be recognized, and you presented an extremely convincing portrait of someone very different from yourself.’

There was a faint mocking inflection in Mrs Smith’s voice as she said,

‘If it was convincing, in what way did it fail to convince you?’

Miss Silver looked at her gravely.

‘Handwriting,’ she observed, ‘is often quite a reliable guide to character. Yours, if I may say so, did not lead me to expect a Mrs Smith. Also the paper on which your letter was written was not what she would have employed.’

‘That was stupid of me.’ The deep voice now had no trace of a London accent. ‘Anything else?’

‘Oh, yes. Mrs Smith would not, I think, have troubled to put an eye-veil on to so old a hat. She would not have worn an eye-veil at all. It occurred to me at once that you did not wish me to have too good a view of your eyes. You were, in fact, afraid that you might be recognized.’

‘And did you recognize me?’

Miss Silver smiled.

‘Your eyes are not easily forgotten. You kept them down as much as possible, but you needed to look at me, because that was why you had come here – to look at me and to make up your mind about consulting me. You disguised your voice very well – the slight accent and the jerky way of speaking. But it was by one slight, almost involuntary movement that you really gave yourself away. It is, I imagine, one which is habitual to you, but I had seen you employ it in the character of Mrs Alving in Ghosts. Your left hand just rose and fell again. It was the simplest thing, but there was something about it which was very effective, very moving. It has remained in my memory as part of a very notable performance. When you made that same movement just now I felt quite sure that you were Adriana Ford.’

Adriana broke into deep melodious laughter.

‘I knew as soon as I had done it that I had slipped up over that hand business.