"I take your point very nicely, ma'am," he answered, rising to his feet. "I have a duty both moral and legal to report a crime if I have proof of one, but in the case of rape-I apologize for such an ugly word, but I assume it is rape we are speaking of?"

"Yes," she said almost inaudibly, her discomfort only too apparent.

"For that crime it is necessary for the victim to make a complaint and to testify, so the matter will rest entirely with your sister. Whatever facts I learn will be at her disposal."

"Excellent." She stood up also and the hoops of her huge skirt settled into place, making her once more look fragile. "I assume you will begin immediately?"

"This afternoon if it will be convenient to see your sister then? You did not tell me her name."

"Marianne-Marianne Gillespie. Yes, this afternoon will be convenient."

"You said that you had saved from your dress allowance what seems to be a considerable sum. Did this happen some time ago?"

"Ten days," she replied quickly. "My allowance is paid quarterly. I had been circumspect, as it happens, and most of it was left from the last due date."

"Thank you, but you do not owe me an accounting, Mrs. Penrose. I merely needed to know how recent was the offense."

"Of course I do not. But I wish you to know that I am telling you the absolute truth, Mr. Monk. Otherwise I cannot expect you to help me. I trust you, and I require that you should trust me."

He smiled suddenly, a gesture which lit his face with charm because it was so rare, and so totally genuine. He found himself liking Julia Penrose more than he had anticipated from her rather prim and exceedingly predictable appearance-the huge hooped skirts so awkward to move in and so unfunctional, the neat bonnet which he loathed, the white gloves and demure manner. It had been a hasty judgment, a practice which he despised in others and even more in himself.

"Your address?" he said quickly.