"You don't understand, Miss Gilmore. Can you tell me where to find this girl—Miss von Dreschler."
"Oh yes. In Jefferson City, Missouri. I come from there. It's a long way off, of course; but it's just the loveliest town and well worth a visit;" and I was babbling on when he put up his hand and stopped me.
"Peace, please. And do you know Colonel von Dreschler?"
"Lor', how could I? He's been dead ever so long. Two years and more, that horrid little red-haired thing said. But of course she may have been fibbing."
He stared down at me as if to read the thoughts in my brain; his look full charged with renewed suspicion. But I was giggling and trying to put my hat straight; and with a sigh he tossed up his hand and rose.
"I can't understand you," he said. "Can you tell me anything about Gareth, when you saw her last?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. I have such a silly memory. It must be quite six months ago—yes, because, I had this hat new; and I've had it quite six months."
"Where was it?" he asked, growing keener again.
"Karlsbad; no, Marienbad; no, Tyrnau; no, Vienna; I can't remember where it was, but I have it down in my diary. I could let you know."
"Did she—she speak of me?"