“Did this seem to upset her greatly?”
“Yes, at the time, but when I left her she was calm and composed.”
“And she said nothing about going away?”
“Nothing, or I should never have left her.”
The inspector then asked if she had any friends in town where she was likely to take refuge, and with a groan John Temple answered, “None.”
Inquiries, however, were at once commenced, and during the day a cabman came forward and stated he had seen the lady leave the Grosvenor Hotel, and had followed her, hoping for a fare. That she had stopped and beckoned to him, and that when he had asked her where she had wished to go, that she had answered: “To one of the bridges.” That he had then said, “To which bridge?” and she had replied, “Westminster.”
When this was repeated to John Temple he grew ghastly pale, and staggered back, but the police inspector tried to reassure him.
“No suicide had been known to have occurred from Westminster bridge last night,” he said, “and at the time the lady had been driven there the bridge would be crowded, and, besides, the cabman had called the attention of a policeman to her. This policeman had also been found, and had made a statement. He said the cabman called his attention to a lady who had just left his cab, and he therefore at once walked along the bridge. He came on a gentleman speaking to a lady, who looked very ill, and he asked the gentleman about her, but he made a satisfactory answer, and they went away together, and he lost sight of them. The policeman, however, had kept looking out during the time of his beat, and as far as was known no tragedy had happened on the bridge.”
With this cold comfort to his heart, John Temple was forced to be content. He saw the cabman who had driven the lady to Westminster, and from this man’s description John believed it had been May.
“She had a lot of bright, light hair, all ruffled-like,” the cabman said, “and a pretty, pale face, and looked in great trouble, and had no gloves on, but he noticed some rings.”