"Ah!" he said, with a start, "I remember now. I saw that face in the crowd round the Red Star, on the night of the murder."
[CHAPTER VIII].
A MYSTERIOUS PARCEL.
Before Fanks finally dismissed the matter of that futile chase he asked a question of his friend the constable. "Did you notice," said he, "if that young lady had a friend with her?"
"No, Mr. Fanks," said the other, promptly, "she was all alone."
"Humph! I thought so," meditated Fanks, as he ascended the stairs, "the accusing friend was a myth. Well, I guess there's a vacancy for a fool, and I'm elected. I've lost her once; but she won't escape me a second time. Taxton-on-Thames isn't London."
The links of the chain which brought forth this remark were as follows:--The postal mark on the envelope was Taxton-on-Thames; the handwriting thereon was the same as that on the back of the photograph--to all appearance that of the missing woman--therefore Fanks thought that he might gain some information about her in the village. The link of the writings connected her with the riverside town; and by following such a clue he hoped to arrive at some knowledge of her identity.
With this resolution, he entered the chambers and found Robert restored to sensibility, sitting on the sofa, with Garth and Maxwell in attendance. The latter looked up eagerly as the detective entered. But Fanks had no idea of letting an inferior into his methods of working, and he dismissed him forthwith.
"Maxwell, you can leave the room," he said sharply; and when the policeman had taken his departure he turned to Garth, and continued, "I lost her after all, my friend; she gave me the slip with singular dexterity. That going down to bring up a witness was all bosh; she told that story as a blind to get out of the room without suspicion."
"But who is she?" asked Garth, at this tale of failure.