"There then," said Yeldham, pausing by his friend and laying his hand on Robert's shoulder--"I've done. No talk will mend the matter, and besides, immediate action is needed. You say Mrs. Streightley had left your house?"
"She had; that letter came by the post the day after her father's death--the day on which she went away."
"And at present you have no clue to her whereabouts?"
"Not the slightest."
Charles Yeldham sat down at his desk, and leaning his head on his hands, remained for a minute or two in deep thought. Then he turned to his friend and said:
"Mrs. Streightley was, I should imagine from the little I saw of her, a woman of great force of character, and not likely to do a thing on the spur of the moment without calculating results. You see this letter, by its postmark, must have been written some hours after she left home. During those hours she was deliberating and forming her plan; and whatever that was, she'll hold to it, I'm sure. She has determined that you sha'n't trace her; and it's my opinion you'll have the greatest difficulty in doing it."
"We might employ the detectives, don't you think?" asked Robert.
"Detectives! There's been no detection done by the detectives since they were made the heroes of sensation novels; and, besides, we don't quite want to place your domestic history among the archives of Scotland Yard. No; whatever is to be done--and, as I said before, I fear the chance is small enough--must be done amongst ourselves. Who were her female friends? intimates, I mean; dear and dearest, and all those things that women say and write to each other?"
"I--I scarcely know," said Robert, looking blank. "She never appeared to me to have what one could call an intimate friend. There was Lady Henmarsh, who used to take her about before we were married; but there's not been over much cordiality between them lately, I should say; and Mrs. Stanbourne, who is a relative of Katharine's, and a very charming woman, the kindest and best--so particularly nice to me, made me feel quite at home--but she's not in England, or I would have sent to her at once; and there's my sister Ellen, and Hester Gould--Mrs. Frere, I mean--but of course, under the circumstances, she would not go to either of them."
"Of course not," said Yeldham, rubbing his head. "It's a tremendous knot--a most tremendous knot. I don't see my way in it the least. Motive for leaving plain enough--discovery of this plot. Inducement for her to go any where in particular? none. 'Never will forgive you--never will look on your face again'--that means concealment, or I don't know but she's just the woman whose spirit would induce her to--no, not that either. Too much pride; hates the world's talk and pity--no, no. What does she say about having taken nothing of yours? Hadn't she any money?"