“A good deal,” she answered slowly. “In the first place, the man who was murdered—Mr. Hamilton Fynes—comes from the village where I was brought up in Massachusetts, and I know more about him, I dare say, than any one else in this country. What I know isn’t very much, perhaps, but it’s interesting. I was to have lunched with him at the Carlton today; in fact, I went there expecting to do so, for I am like you—I scarcely ever look inside these English newspapers. Well, I went to the Carlton and waited and he did not come. At last I went into the office and asked whether he had arrived. Directly I mentioned his name, it was as though I had thrown a bomb shell into the place. The clerk called me on one side, took me into a private office, and showed me a newspaper. As soon as I had read the account, I was interviewed by an inspector from Scotland Yard. Ever since then I have been followed about by reporters.”
The young man whistled softly.
“Say, Penelope!” he exclaimed. “Who was this fellow, anyhow, and what were you doing lunching with him?”
“That doesn’t matter,” she answered. “You don’t tell me all your secrets, Mr. Dicky Vanderpole, and it isn’t necessary for me to tell you all mine, even if we are both foreigners in a strange country. The poor fellow isn’t going to lunch with any one else in this world. I suppose you are thinking what an indiscreet person I am, as usual?”
The young man considered the matter for a moment.
“No,” he said; “I didn’t understand that he was the sort of person you would have been likely to have taken lunch with. But that isn’t my affair. Have you seen the second edition?”
The girl shook her head.
“Haven’t I told you that I never read the papers? I only saw what they showed me in at the Carlton.”
“The Press Association have cabled to America, but no one seems to be able to make out exactly who the fellow is. His letter to the captain of the steamer was from the chairman of the company, and his introduction to the manager of the London and North Western Railway Company was from the greatest railway man in the world. Mr. Hamilton Fynes must have been a person who had a pretty considerable pull over there. Curiously enough, though, only the name of the man was mentioned in them; nothing about his business, or what he was doing over on this side. He was simply alluded to as ‘Mr. Hamilton Fynes—the gentleman bearing this communication.’ I expect, after all, that you know more about him than any one.”
She shook her head.