“Now,” French went on, “if you or your sister could just remember the week that happened, I should be very much obliged.”
Susan Scott sat with a heavy frown on her rather pretty features. Concentrated thought was evidently an unwonted exercise. But at last her efforts bore fruit.
“I’ve got it now,” she said with something of triumph in her tone. “It was the last week of November. I remember it because my brother-in-law got his new job in the first week of December, and that was the following Monday. I heard that much about his job that I ought to know.”
French had scarcely doubted that this would prove to be the date, but it was most excellent to have it fixed in so definite a manner. He felt that he was progressing in his weaving of the net round the elusive Mrs. X.
“That’s very good,” he said approvingly. “Now will you tell me about Mr. Vane?”
The girl sniffed.
“Him?” she said scornfully. “There ain’t much to tell about him. He didn’t trouble us much with his company.”
“How was that? Did they not get on? Remember we’re speaking in confidence.”
“Why, I never even saw him. He didn’t turn up all the three months I was there. But I heard about him from cook. He was away all the time or next thing to it. When he did come, it was generally for two days. He would come late in the evening, so cook said, and stay for two days without ever going so much as outside the door, and then go away again in the evening.”
“You mean that if he came, say, on a Monday night, he would stay until the following Wednesday night?”