The inspector scratched the side of his nose with his pencil.
“That is rather awkward. It will be necessary that we should be in touch with you for some time. And you might leave Hobart Residence at any moment.”
“Then I could let you know,” Cecily suggested.
“That would not quite do,” the inspector said mildly. “No. Just give me some address from which letters could be forwarded to you. Some relatives, perhaps!”
“I don't know any of my relatives—yet,” Cecily faltered, a streak of red coming in her pale cheeks. “But Miss Cochrane, Morley House, Beesford, Meadshire, would always forward letters.”
The inspector wrote the address down without further comment.
Cecily got up. “If that is all, I think Mrs. Bechcombe wants me, inspector.”
“Yes, thank you.” The inspector and Mr. Steadman rose too. John Steadman moved to the door.
“I must introduce myself, Miss Hoyle,” he said courteously. “I am the late Mr. Bechcombe's cousin and, as your post with Mrs. Bechcombe is of course only temporary, it has struck me that you might possibly be looking out for another engagement. Now, a friend of mine is in urgent need of a secretary, and we thought you might like the post.”
The red streak in Cecily's cheeks deepened to crimson.