The bird’s cries brought a rosy-cheeked maidservant to the front door, who stared curiously at Gillett as he jumped off his bicycle and approached her. A request for Miss Maynard brought a doubtful shake of the head from the girl, so Gillett produced his card and asked her to take it to her mistress. The girl took the card, and shortly returned with the announcement that Mrs. Maynard would see him. She ushered him into a large, handsomely furnished room and left him.
A few minutes afterwards Gillett heard the sound of tapping in the hall outside the door. Then the door was opened by the maid who had admitted Gillett, and he saw an elderly lady, with refined features and grey hair, looking at him with haughty dark eyes. She was leaning on an ebony stick, and as she advanced into the room the detective saw that she was lame.
“I wanted to see Miss Maynard,” said Gillett, making the best bow of which he was capable.
“You cannot see my daughter.” She uttered the words in such a manner as to give Gillett the impression that she was speaking to somebody some distance away.
“Why not?”
“She is not at home.”
“Where is she?”
“That I cannot tell you.”
“When will she return?”
“I do not know.”