Somehow, any lurking objections which Mr. Cory might have had were all overcome, and when Hilton went home that night, many arrangements for the future had been made. Subject to Mrs. Riddell’s own consent, it had been decided that it would be best for her to live with Miss Margaret for a while. Mr. Cory, very much to his own surprise, found himself enrolled as an amateur detective, liable to be called upon for active service at any time. Annie, instead of moping at home and giving way to melancholy, was bent upon yielding efficient help as a lady detective, and Hilton meant to be guided by the exigencies of the moment.
The avowed end and aim of all these good people was to bring the man who was responsible for Harley Riddell’s imprisonment to justice.
The progress of our story will show how they went about their new employment, and what were the results of their endeavours as amateur detectives.
CHAPTER III.
“MISS ANNIE CORY IS CONFIDENTIAL.”
A few days after the events narrated in the last chapter, Miss Margaret Cory was reading aloud from some manuscript which she had just received by post. Her audience was small, being composed of two individuals with whom we are already acquainted—to wit, her brother, Mr. Cory, and Hilton Riddell, who both listened to her with curious interest.
You and I too, dear readers, will take the liberty of hearing what Miss Cory had to say.
“My darling Auntie,” she read, “I am now fairly installed here, but, would you believe it? there are signs already that it will be unnecessary for me to remain here very long. I shall, however, do my utmost to retard my exit until I have learned all I want to know. Short as my time here has been, it has already revealed much to me. Perhaps I had better begin my story at the beginning, and then you can form your own opinion. I must also be as lucid and explicit as possible, since upon what I learn and describe Hilton Riddell’s actions in the near future are dependent.
“On presenting myself here yesterday morning, according to arrangement, I was admitted by a middle-aged servant, who regarded me with what I considered pure effrontery.
“‘I wish to see Mrs. Stavanger,’ I said.