Although he smiled Eric Darrell felt as though he could have wept just then.
The one glance he had taken had revealed the fact that the capital L made by Mrs. Leslie was very similar to the one which he had seen signed to the note Paul Prescott had let fall.
It was a shock to the detective, even though he had in a measure expected it.
That point gained he put the matter aside for the present and continued to appear pleasant, though it was only with an effort he could do so.
For a little he chatted with the lady, and endeavored to study her.
Darrell thought that if his suspicions were proven true, Lillian Leslie must be the perfection of an actress—he had never seen two such extremes meet in an individual—she was the incarnation of good and evil.
“By the way, are you acquainted with a Mrs. Collingwood of your street here?” he asked after a while, in a careless tone.
“Yes, I know her.”
She looked surprised, as though wondering where he could have met her.
“Last night I made her acquaintance. She is accounted a rather handsome woman, I believe.”