"Not as I know of, sir," the young woman replied. "But if you will just wait a minute I'll go in and ask Mrs. Jimson. She will be sure to know."
Browne contained his patience as best he could for some five or six minutes. Then the girl returned and shook her head.
"There's no message of any sort, sir," she said; "at least not as Mrs. Jimson knows of."
"Thank you," said Browne simply. "I am much obliged to you."
As he said it he slipped half a sovereign into the girl's hand. The bribe completed the effect the touch of romance, combined with his pleasing personality, to say nothing of his smart cab drawn up beside the pavement, had already produced. Not only would she have told him all she knew, but, had she dared, she would have gone so far as to have expressed her sympathy with him.
Browne was about to descend the steps, when another idea occurred to him, and he turned to the girl again.
"You do not happen to be aware of their address in Paris, I suppose?" he inquired. "I have a particular reason for asking the question."
"Hush, sir!" she whispered. "If you really want to know it, I believe I can find out for you. Madame Bernstein wrote it down for Mrs. Jimson, so that she could send on any letters that came for her. I know where Mrs. Jimson put the piece of paper, and if you'll just wait a minute longer, I'll see if I can find it for you and copy it out. I won't be a minute longer than I can help."
Feeling very much as if he were being guilty of a dishonourable action, Browne allowed her to depart upon her errand. This time she was somewhat longer away, but when she returned she carried, concealed in her hand, a small slip of paper. He took it from her, and, once more thanking her for her kindness, returned to his cab.
"Home, Williams," he cried to his coachman, "and as quickly as possible. I have no time to spare."