"It is a woman of middle age," she said, "and she, too, has come to make inquiries about Jed Gilman."
The detective also looked excited.
"Do you think," he asked, "it can be Jane Gilman herself come back after all these years?"
"That's it!" said Mrs. Avery, her face lighting up. "I wondered where I had seen her face before. Now, though she is so much older, I recognize in this middle-aged woman the girl who brought Jed to the door fourteen years ago."
"Bring her in here, hear what she has to say, and place me somewhere, so that, myself unseen, I can hear what she says."
This was what the detective said in a quick, decided tone.
"Very well, sir, go in there. It is a small bedroom. You can keep the door ajar."
The detective lost no time in concealing himself.
The woman came in. She was a stout, florid-complexioned woman, rather showily dressed, with the look of an Englishwoman of the middle class.
Before we proceed to record the interview that took place between Mr. and Mrs. Avery and herself we must go back again to the poorhouse, and our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Fogson.