“Didn’t I? I didn’t know it would interest you. Yes; she seems very devoted to riding.”
“And to racing,” added Gimblet.
“I don’t know about that. She’s never been near a race-course, as far as I know. What makes you think so? Have you been talking to Blake about her?”
“When a young lady’s room is full of pictures of race-horses, and ‘Ruff’s Guide to the Turf’ occupies a prominent position on her bookshelf,” said Gimblet indifferently, “it is not really necessary to ask the servants whether she takes an interest in racing. But come, Sir Gregory, I think we have no more to do here. Shall we go back to my flat and see if anything has been heard at the hospitals?”
With a farewell word to Blake they prepared to leave the house, the butler hastening before them to open the hall door. As he drew back the latch and they stepped forth into the street, they were confronted by a grey-haired man carrying a small black bag, who stood with a hand already upon the bell.
“Whom have we here?” said the detective to himself, and taking Sir Gregory’s arm he drew him back into the house, leaving Blake to parley with the new-comer.
“No, sir, Mrs. Vanderstein’s not at home,” they could hear him saying.
The two men retreated to the morning-room but here in a few minutes Blake followed them.
“If you please, sirs,” he said, “here is Mr. Chark, Mrs. Vanderstein’s solicitor.”