“You and I must overhaul those boxes, Mrs. Bingley. Did you think, now, of making any inquiries about this Mrs. Wilson?”
“No, it would have been useless; she had already sailed for New Zealand.”
“Do you remember her address?”
“She wrote, so far as I can recollect, from the Savoy Hotel.”
Sergeant Ridgway took an envelope from his pocket, and making a note on the back of it, returned it into keeping.
“Well, you can leave that to me,” he said, and, resting his right elbow in the palm of the other hand, softly caressed his chin, bending an intent look on his witness.
“Now, ma’am,” he said. “I want to ask you a particular question. Has Annie Evans’s conduct, while in this service, always continued to justify you in your first good opinion of her?”
“Always,” answered the housekeeper with emphasis. “She was a thoroughly good straightforward girl, and during the short time she was here I have never had any trouble with her that was of her own procuring.”
“Will you tell me quite what you mean by that?”
“Well, sir, she could not help being pretty and admired, and if it led to some quarrels among the men on her account, the blame was theirs, and never in the smallest degree to be charged to her conduct with them. She always did her best to keep them at a distance.”