"I don't, sir. And his granddaughter—clever young lady, that, sir—she don't know, neither. She went to a theatre, along of her aunt, the lady that came early this morning. We wired the bad news to her first thing, and she came along at once. But him—no, I don't know where he went to spend his evening. Been in and out, and mostly out, ever since they were here, three days ago. House-hunting, so I understood."
Rhona Hannaford presently returned, in company with a motherly-looking woman whom she introduced as her aunt, Mrs. Keeley. Then Hetherwick remembered that he had not introduced himself; rectifying that omission, he found that Kenthwaite had told Rhona who he was when he passed them the previous afternoon. He delivered Kenthwaite's message and in his absence offered his own services.
"It's very good of you," said Rhona. "I don't know that there's anything to do. The police seem to be doing everything—the inspector who was here last night was very kind just now, but, as he said, there's nothing to be done until after the inquest."
"Yes," said Hetherwick. "And that is—did he say when?"
"To-morrow morning. He said I should have to go," replied Rhona.
"So shall I," observed Hetherwick. "They'll only want formal evidence from you. I shall have to say more. I wish I could say more than I shall have to say."
The two women glanced at him inquiringly.
"I mean," he continued, "that I wish I had stopped the other man from leaving the train. I suppose you have not heard anything from the police about him—that man?"
"Nothing. They had not found him or heard of him up to just now. But you can tell me something that I very much want to know. You saw this man with my grandfather for some little time, didn't you?"
"From St. James's Park to Charing Cross."