"What other resources had she, do you think?" exclaimed the dressmaker. "She was dying, penniless, friendless, leaving her grandchild to the mercy of strangers. She knew that Monsieur Georges was a rich man, and that any friend of Monsieur Georges was likely to be well off. I daresay she knew no more than the name of this friend."
"Did you hear the name?"
"Never. I heard her tell Léonie that the gentleman was in London. He was living at some hotel, the name of which I forget."
"Would you recognise it if you heard it?" asked Heathcote.
"Perhaps. I am not sure."
He went over the names of the principal hotels, without success. Mademoiselle Beauville could not remember to have heard any one of them.
"You are sure that Mademoiselle Lemarque was to go to London," inquired Heathcote, "and no further than London? You heard no mention of Cornwall or Plymouth?"
He repeated the names of county and town—giving each the true Gallic intonation—but they suggested nothing to Mademoiselle Beauville.
"She was to go to London—nowhere else. But why do you ask?"
"I will tell you that presently. Did Léonie Lemarque leave Paris immediately after her grandmother's death?"