“Certainly, I have seen no papers!” he exclaimed.
“Well, you seem honest.”
“I hope so.”
“If you did happen to find any papers in the flat, they would not be your property, would they?”
“Of course not!”
“What would you do with them?”
“I should give them to you.”
“God grant that you are honest!” she sighed. “But how would you find me?”
“If you give me your name and address—”
“My name is Violet Mordaunt,” she said rapidly, as if venturing against some feeling of rashness. “My home is at Rigsworth in Warwickshire, near Kenilworth; but I am for the present in London, at—”