They had so little to go upon. "The only clue, and that a very slight one," was the cabman. Could I remember what he was like?
The strangeness of the question! Taxi-drivers were as much alike to country eyes as the cabs they drove—— But why ask me? "Bring the man in, and let the inspector see him."
Then they told me. The man who was waiting there outside was not the one who had taken me to Lowndes Square.
But where was our "slight and only clue"?
They said that while they all were busied over me, unconscious, the butler had paid the cabman and let him go. He had never thought to take the number. The slight, the only clue, was lost.
But no. The inspector said they would circulate an inquiry for a cabman who had brought a young lady of my description to Lowndes Square that night.
I tried to learn how long this would take—what we could do meanwhile. What had been already done.
They seemed to be saying things which had no meaning. Except one thing. The great difficulty was that I could not describe the outside of the house, nor even the general locality. Which way had we driven from Victoria?
I had no idea.
But surely I had looked about. What had I noticed as we drove away from the station?