“Hobart Residence, Windover Square. It is a club for girls,” she added.
“But your permanent home address,” the detective went on.
There was a pause. The girl's long eyelashes flickered.
“I—really I haven't a settled home at present. My father is away on some business abroad; when he comes back we shall look for a cottage in the country.”
“Oh!” The inspector asked no more questions, but there was a curious look in his eyes as he scrawled another entry in his book.
“That is all for the present, then, Miss Hoyle. The inquest will be opened to-morrow, and you may be wanted. I cannot say.”
He rose. Cecily got up at once and with a little farewell bow went out of the room.
The inspector stood still for a minute or two, then he opened the door again.
“Call Mr. William Spencer, please.”
Ordinarily Mr. Spencer was a jaunty, self-satisfied young man, but to-day both the jauntiness and the self-satisfaction were gone and it was with a very white and subdued face that he came up to the inspector.