"I don't say that," he answered.
I looked at him bewildered. "You mean you do know of a house—a house where——"
He hesitated too. "We know some," he said.
"You don't mean there are many?"
Again the hesitation. "Not many of the sort you describe." He took up the stump of pencil hurriedly and held it poised. "Try to recollect some landmark," he said—"some building, some statue that you passed."
I did my best to obey—to wrench my mind away from the inside of that place where Betty was ... to think of what we had seen on the way.
"Did you drive through the Park?" said my aunt.
"No," the inspector answered for me, "she wouldn't take them through the Park; she would go as fast as possible—by side streets——"
But I told them we had passed the Park. We had seen flower-beds through a tall iron railing. She said it was Hyde Park, and the flowers were on our left.
"Hamilton Place. Park Lane." The inspector punctuated my phrases. "Driving north. You crossed Oxford Street?"