"Sooner the better," agreed Hetherwick. "And, look here, I'll go down with you. We'll go by the 10.10 from Victoria, drive to this place, and I'll wait outside while you have your interview. After that we'll get some lunch in Dorking—and you can tell me your news."
Next morning found Hetherwick pacing the platform at Victoria and on the look-out for his fellow-companion. She came to him a little before the train was due to leave, and he noticed at once that she had discarded the mourning garments in which he had found her the previous afternoon; she now appeared in a smart tailor-made coat and skirt, and looked the part he wanted her to assume—that of a capable and self-reliant young business woman.
"Good!" he said approvingly, as they went to find their seats. "Nothing like dressing up to it. You're all ready with your lines, eh?—I mean, you've settled on all you're going to say and do?"
"Leave that to me," she answered with a laugh, "I shan't forget the primary object, anyway. But I've been wondering—supposing we come to the conclusion that this Lady Riversreade is the Mrs. Whittingham of ten years ago? What are you going to do then?"
"My ideas are hazy on that point—at present," confessed Hetherwick. "The first thing, surely, is to establish identity. Don't forget that the main thing to do at Riversreade Court is to get a good look at Lady Riversreade's right wrist, and see what's on it!"
Riversreade Court proved to be some distance from Dorking, in the Leith Hill district; Hetherwick charted a taxi-cab and gave his companion final instructions as they rode out. Half an hour's run brought them to the house—a big, pretentious, imitation Elizabethan structure, set on the hill-side amongst a grove of firs and pines, and having an ornamental park laid out between its gardens and terraces and the high road. At the lodge gates he stopped the driver and got out.
"I'll wait here for you," he said to Rhona. "You ride up to the house, get your business done, and come back here. Be watchful now—of anything."
Rhona nodded reassuringly and went off; Hetherwick lighted his pipe and strolled about admiring the scenery. But his thoughts were with Rhona; he was wondering what adventures she was having in the big mansion which the late contractor had built amidst the woods. And Rhona kept him wondering some time; an hour had elapsed before the cab came back. With a hand on its door, he turned to the driver:
"Go to the 'White Horse' now," he said. "We'll lunch there, and afterwards you can take us to the station. Well?" he continued, as he got in and seated himself at Rhona's side. "What luck?"
"Good, I should say," answered Rhona. "She wears a broad black velvet band on her right wrist, and on the outer face is a small cameo. How's that?"