He had now more reason than ever for visiting Southampton when the Olympic was next in, and he set out on the following morning on his return journey, reaching London on the Tuesday afternoon.
At the Yard he found that three more of the transactions of the mysterious lady had come to light, but unfortunately in each case without supplying any clue which might lead to her identification. These discoveries accounted for some £1200 worth of the jewellery Mrs. X had bought, and for this she had received £1090, making a loss on the transaction of only about nine per cent.
He took an early opportunity of visiting Mr. Williams, to ask him if he could identify his mysterious caller in Mrs. Root’s group. But the money-lender was not illuminative. He did not reply for some time, turning the cards over as if uncertain, but finally he pointed to Mrs. Ward’s figure.
“That’s like the lady,” he said doubtfully, “but I confess I am not sure of her. If it is she, it is an uncommonly bad photograph.” He continued staring at the picture. “You know,” he went on slowly, “I’ve seen that woman before; that woman that you say is Mrs. Ward. I’ve certainly seen her somewhere. It’s a curious thing, but I had the same impression when my visitor called here with the diamonds; I thought vaguely that I had seen her before. But I wasn’t so sure as I am about this Mrs. Ward. Somewhere, at some time, I’ve seen her. I wish to heaven I could remember where.”
“I wish to heaven you could,” French agreed in somewhat aggrieved tones. “It would make things a lot easier for me.”
“If I can’t remember to help find my £3000, it’s not likely I shall be able to do it to ease your job,” the other declared dryly. “I can’t place her. I’ve thought and thought, and it’s no good. Some one I’ve seen in a train or a restaurant most likely. I don’t think it’s any one I’ve ever met.”
French next called at the Piccadilly branch of the London and Counties Bank, and saw Mr. Scarlett and the clerk, Plenteous. Both these gentlemen hesitatingly selected Mrs. Ward’s photograph as being like that of their mysterious client, though neither believed it was she. As in the case of Mr. Williams, the manager thought the lady’s features were familiar, though he was sure he had never met her before. With this, French had to be content.
He spent his afternoon in driving round the shops and agents with whom the elusive Mrs. X had dealt. Of the eleven assistants who had served her, seven thought she was like Mrs. Ward, and four could not recall her appearance.
All this testimony was very unsatisfactory to French, but he thought the balance of probability was in favour of Mrs. Ward being the woman he sought, and more hopeful than he had been for some time, he travelled down to Southampton on the Wednesday evening, so as to be there for the arrival of the Olympic on the following day.