“That’s just what the maid can’t tell me. Her mistress led a very secluded life, and was never what you could call fast, though a very pretty woman. During this time she had only one visitor—a gentleman.”
“Ah!”
“It sounds promising, but it ends in smoke, so far as I can see.”
“Why?”
“This gentleman was a Colonel Montgomery—an old friend—though he wasn’t much turned thirty, the maid says. He interested himself a lot in Mrs. Hillmer’s affairs, looked after some investments for her, and was on very good terms with her, and nobody could whisper a word against the character of either of them. He was never there except in the afternoon. On very rare occasions he took Mrs. Hillmer, whose maid always accompanied them, to Epping Forest, or up the river, or on some such journey.”
“Go on!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but the chase is over. He’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes. The maid doesn’t know how, or when, exactly, but one day she found her mistress crying, and when she asked her what was the matter, Mrs. Hillmer said, ‘I’ve lost my friend.’ The maid said, ‘Surely not Colonel Montgomery, madam?’ and she replied, ‘Yes.’ She quite took on about it.”
“Had the maid no idea as to the date of this interesting occurrence?”