Miss Grison gave him a scrutinizing look. “Yes, it was a man, as I truly believe, although there is no evidence to show the sex of the murderer.”
“What is the name of the person you think was your brother’s enemy?”
“Never mind, Mr. Fuller. I may misjudge him, and until I am sure I shall mention no names. But I shall watch and search and think and work until I avenge poor Baldwin’s death!” And the fierce, determined look on her yellow face showed that she thoroughly meant what she said.
“Can I help you in any way?”
“Why should you?” she asked cautiously.
“Because I take an interest in the case,” Alan explained equally cautiously. “A friend of mine, Mr. Latimer, who was at the inquest, told me all about the sad circumstances, and the death is so mysterious that both of us wish to learn the truth, if only out of curiosity.”
The little woman paused almost imperceptibly and cast a swift look at the young man and the girl by his side before replying. Then she accepted the well-meant offer in her usual unemotional way. “I shall be glad of your assistance, Mr. Fuller,” she said, producing a printed card from a bead bag which dangled from her lean wrist; “this is my address in Bloomsbury. I keep a boarding-house.”
“So Mr. Latimer told me. You stated as much at the inquest. Tell me,” he asked, putting the card into his vest pocket, “have you any clue to———”
“I have no clue you would call reasonable, Mr. Fuller!”
“That hints some ground on your part for——”