“Yes,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, with modest triumph. “I observed her face of terror, and remembering what the woman had said, I put two and two together.”
“Well, you mentioned the matter to me, and I confess I was sceptical. My suspicions ran in a different groove, but it now seems that we were both right.”
Mrs. Wilcox and Mrs. Whitley gasped simultaneously.
“You know some of what followed,” said the medical woman, addressing Mrs. Dumaresq. “This afternoon a man called to see that wretched criminal. I, suspecting nothing, went down to see him and ask his business, for she had just taken a sleeping draught. He told me—.” The medical woman paused to gain her full effect. “He told me that he was a detective from Scotland Yard, and that his business with Miss Prudence Semaphore was personal and private. Mrs. Dumaresq’s words flashed on me like a thunderbolt, and quite suddenly I asked him, as if I knew all about it, if he wanted to see her in connection with the baby farming case, and he said ‘Yes,’—he said ‘Yes.’—I expect he saw then he had made a mistake, for I could not get another word out of him after that, but he is to call again the day after to-morrow.”
The horror of Mrs. Wilcox and Mrs. Whitley could not be expressed. Mrs. Dumaresq listened with the calm air of one who has been in the secret all along.
“When I saw,” said the medical woman, “that Justice was upon her track, that she was mixed up with detectives and baby-farmers, all my former suspicions came back with a rush, but I felt the necessity for being calm and just. I remembered the curious circumstances I have mentioned, and also the queer relapse she had to-day when Mrs. Dumaresq asked for her sister’s address, finally saying she did not know. The whole thing was as plain as possible. Her sister had disappeared, because she had been somehow made away with. No doubt there were circumstances in the past life of Prudence Semaphore that she dreaded coming to her knowledge, for we all know how particular poor dear Miss Semaphore was. Still, I resolved to search, to enquire before I decided. I told Mrs. Dumaresq about the detective, and then I began a rigorous investigation, beginning quietly with the servants.”
“But perhaps her sister really is at the seaside somewhere,” suggested Mrs. Wilcox. “All this is very shocking about the detective and the baby farming; but Miss Semaphore may be alive and well, for all that proves to the contrary.”
“Wait till you hear,” said the medical woman, shaking a solemn finger at Mrs. Wilcox. “First of all, I made cautious enquiries from the servants. Mary tells me that from the day Prudence reported that Miss Semaphore was ill, she was never permitted to enter her room. Never saw her again, in fact. She tried to get in, but the door was always locked. This, too, was my own experience. Then something was said about a letter having come for Prudence from her sister. Müller and Mary both know Miss Semaphore’s handwriting, and they agree that to their knowledge no such letter has been delivered here. I next enquired as to whether anyone had seen Miss Semaphore leave the house. It was unlikely that an invalid, probably still weak from illness, should be able to get downstairs and out of the house unobserved. Besides, there was the question of luggage. She could hardly have gone and taken nothing with her, not even a change of dress. But no one saw her. I then put on my bonnet, went out and spoke to the men on the two nearest cab ranks. They all agree in saying that none of them took up a lady fare, or two ladies, with or without luggage, on the Tuesday, from this house. Major Jones tells us he saw someone, who he is sure was Miss Prudence Semaphore, and alone, crossing the road hastily near Tate Street. That would have been shortly after dinner on Tuesday evening. It seems absolutely plain, therefore, that Miss Semaphore did not leave the house at all.”
“But we saw her empty room that night,” said Mrs. Whitley. “We saw her empty bed. She must have gone some time before we went upstairs to visit her.”
“My theory is,” said the medical woman, “that she was then concealed in that very room.”