'That's the name, sir. Well, I think I could go from the bridge right up to the church even yet. If I had a piece of paper and a pencil I could show you.'
I readily supplied him with pencil and paper, and after a little cogitation and a good deal of muttering, 'Forward, right turn, left wheel, steady now, forward,' he handed me the diagram of what he judged was the route. As it wasn't drawn to a scale, and no streets were noted, it was quite unintelligible to me; but it proved Joe had it in his mind's eye, and so far this was quite satisfactory. 'Thank you, Joe,' I said. 'May I keep this?'
He nodded, and I put it in my pocket. 'Now, just two questions more. Was Mrs Stuart buried in Toledo?'
'No, sir. She lies in a cemetery a few miles out of Toledo.'
'You don't remember the name of the place?'
'Well, sir, I do—sometimes. It reminded me, when I heard it first, of the old home-name of Dalgonnar, but it wasn't that—very near it, though.'
'Dalgonnar—Dal——Ah, Joe, was it not Algodor?'
'That's the name, sir—Algodor. I see you've been there. Well, sir, Mrs Stuart's buried at Algodor.'
Unknown to Joe, I had taken shorthand notes of the gist of his information, and when he was again busy with his emery I went over them carefully. 'By the way, Joe,' I asked, 'did you ever hear anything about the birth of a child?'
'Yes, sir. Mrs Stuart died in childbed, but the child lived. I don't remember hearing whether it was a boy or a girl. Mr Trent, our chaplain, could tell you about that. He went up with the Major and baptised it.'