The perfect treasure glanced at the driver, who was quite intent on his own affairs and apparently not listening—and Wilkins smiled quite complacently.
"If I might make so bold as to suggest it, miss," he said, "why not say that the trunk comes from—well, the cousin of this Felice, perhaps? Has she a female cousin?"
"Nobody knows it if she hasn't."
"Then it might be said that this comes from her cousin—er—Aimee Fourier. That sounds rather well for a name?"
"Great, Wilkins!" said Mary.
"And it might further be said that this cousin, a person perhaps in the trade of making gowns and the like, since I believe that such use these trunks quite a bit—it might be said that the cousin, having no further use for this trunk, is sending it to your maid, miss."
Sheer admiration shone in Mary's visible eye.
"Wilkins, you're a jewel!" said its owner. "Where are we now?"
"On West End Avenue, miss, within a block or two of your home."
Mary disappeared.