No doubt, when she found that her secret was known, she would collapse in a heap at the feet of her husband, and he—well, Eric believed Joe was fool enough to take her in his arms and forgive her.
How could he learn what their plans were?
He was thus pondering when he saw a figure in front of him that he thought he recognized. It was the trim maid who had given Prescott the note before.
Of course Eric might be mistaken—there were many other like maids besides Mrs. Leslie’s particular, but having the subject in his mind he jumped to the conclusion that this must be the same party he had seen before.
She was walking along slowly, looking up at the numbers of the great buildings as if searching for a particular one.
Undoubtedly she was looking for the building in which the artist had his studio.
Quick as a flash a plan came into the detective’s mind.
What should she be looking for Prescott for but to deliver a note?
He intercepted her.
When he saw her face he discovered that she was an exceedingly youthful looking person to be about thirty years of age, as Joe had declared—had he been asked to guess it he would have said seventeen.