Matherfield nodded significantly.
"Just what I expected to hear," he answered. "She'd booked a second-class passage for New York in the Tartaric, sailing that afternoon, in the name of H. Cunningham. As soon as I found that out, I knew I should come across her again—there'd be no need to go raking the town for her. I ascertained that passengers would be allowed to go aboard from two o'clock; the boat would sail between five and six. So, having once more admonished the clerk to secrecy and given him plausible excuses for my inquisitiveness, I went off to relax a bit, and in due time sat down to an early and comfortable lunch—a man must take his ease now and then, you know, Mr. Hetherwick."
"Exactly, Matherfield—I quite agree," said Hetherwick. "But I dare say your brain was at work, all the same, while you ate and drank?"
"It was, sir," assented Matherfield. "Yes—I made my plans. I wasn't going to New York, of course; that was out of the question. But I was going to have speech with her. I decided that I'd watch for her coming aboard the Tartaric—being alone, she'd probably come early. I proposed to get her aside, accosting her, of course, as Lady Riversreade, tell her who I was and show my papers, and ask her if she would give me any information about a certain Dr. Cyprian Baseverie. I thought I'd see how she took that before asking anything further; if I saw that she was taken aback, confused, and especially if she gave me any prevaricating or elusive answer, I'd ask her straight out if before her marriage to the late Sir John Riversreade she was the Mrs. Whittingham who, some ten years ago, stayed for a time at the White Hart Hotel at Sellithwaite. And I practically made up my mind, too, that if she admitted that and I saw good cause for it, I'd detain her."
"You meant to go as far as that?" exclaimed Hetherwick.
"I did! I should have been justified," replied Matherfield. "However, that's neither here nor there, for I never saw her! I was down at the point of departure well before two, and I assured myself that nobody had gone aboard the Tartaric up to that time. I kept as sharp a look out as any man with only one pair of eyes could, right away from ten minutes to two until five-and-twenty past five, when the boat sailed, but she never turned up. Of course you'll say that she must have slipped on unobserved by me, but I'm positive she didn't. No, sir! It's my opinion that she thought better of it and didn't go—forfeiting her passage money, or a part of it, would be nothing to a woman of her means—or that she was frightened at the last minute of showing herself on that stage!"
"Frightened! Why?" asked Hetherwick.
Matherfield laughed significantly.
"There were two or three of our men from Scotland Yard about," he answered. "I'm not aware of what they were after; I didn't ask 'em. But I did ask them to give me a hand in looking out for a lady whom I fully described—which is why I'm dead certain she never went aboard. Now, it may have been that she came down there, knew—you never know!—some of those chaps and—made herself scarce! Anyway—I never set eyes on her. Never, in fact, saw her again after I lost her in the morning. So—that's where I am!"
"You came back—defeated?" remarked Hetherwick.