Truly it was hard to come so near getting what might be vital information, and yet have it beyond my grasp! It was quite evident that Mrs. Purvis was honestly trying to remember the lady's name, but could not do so.
And then I had what seemed to me an inspiration. “Didn't she give you her card?” I asked.
A light broke over Mrs. Purvis's face. “Why, yes, of course she did! And I'm sure I can find it.”
She turned to a card-tray, and rapidly running over the bits of pasteboard, she selected three or four.
“Here they are,” she exclaimed, “all here together. I mean all the cards that were given me on that particular evening. And here is the name I couldn't think of. It is Mrs. Cunningham. I remember distinctly that she carried a gold bag, and no one else in the party did, for we were admiring it. And here is her address on the card; Marathon Park, New Jersey.”
I almost fainted, myself, with the suddenness of the discovery. Had I really found the name and address of the owner of the gold bag? Of course there might be a slip yet, but the evidence seemed clear that Mrs. Cunningham, of Marathon Park, owned the bag that had been the subject of so much speculation.
I had no idea where Marathon Park might be, but that was a mere detail. I thanked Mrs. Purvis sincerely for the help she had given me, and I was glad I had not told her that her casual acquaintance was perhaps implicated in a murder mystery.
I made my adieux and returned at once to West Sedgwick.
As he had promised, Parmalee met me at the station, and I told him the whole story, for I thought him entitled to the information at once.
“Why, man alive!” he exclaimed, “Marathon Park is the very next station to West Sedgwick!”