"Oh, no."
He sighed and went off on another tack.
"Can't you tell me the way she looks, so as to prepare me some for when I see her?" he suggested. "Does she resemble you, Miss Smith?"
"I don't think so," I said, suppressing a foolish giggle. It was the first time I'd wanted to laugh at anything for the last twenty-four hours. "No; Miss Million is—well, she's about my height. But she's dark."
"I've always admired the small brunette woman myself," admitted Mr. Hiram P. Jessop, adding quickly and courteously: "Not that I don't think it's perfectly lovely to see a blonde with the bright chestnut hair and the brown eyes that you have."
"Thank you," I said.
"And how soon can I see this little dark-haired cousin of mine?" went on the American when we turned out of the Gardens. Unobtrusively the Scotland Yard man had risen also. "What time can I call around this evening?"
"I—I don't know when she'll be in," I hesitated.
"Where's she gone to?" persisted the cousin of this missing heiress. "How long did she go for?"
I fenced with this question until we arrived at the very doors of the Cecil again.