"I wish we were not," said my rash tongue, and Miss Monk stopped.
"I really don't understand you, Mr. Vance. Why should it matter to me whether we are strangers or not?"
"Your aunt's words when she introduced me----"
Miss Monk flushed and cut me short. "That is my aunt's nonsense," she said hastily. "You don't expect me to believe that you followed me here because you admired my photograph."
That was exactly what I had done, but it did not do to tell her so, for she looked more like an offended goddess than ever. "I came here about the eye," was my cautious answer.
"You think that a true knowledge of why Anne Caldershaw attached a value to that eye would enable you to trace her assassin?"
"Yes, I do think so. Do you, Miss Monk?" I spoke with the cloak in my mind. "Do you wish me to trace her assassin?"
"Why not. She should certainly be captured and punished and the eye recovered, especially, as you seem to think it can indicate where the money left to me by Uncle Gabriel is hidden."
"She! she! she!" I positively gasped.
"Of course." Again she looked surprised. "I understand from the report in the papers, that the woman who ran off with your motor car is the assassin."