'But how did he come to have an envelope with "Miss Wylie" on?' I said. 'He doesn't live in Mrs. Wylie's house, but in the one between yours and hers, and this must have come from her.'
'I daresay she gave it him to play with, or her servant may have given it him,' said Margaret, 'You see he's sometimes at the end of the balcony nearest her, and sometimes at our end. I think his servants have put him more at our end since she's been away; perhaps they've heard me talking to him. Anyway, I'm sure this old envelope must have come out of his cage.'
I did not speak for a moment. I was gazing at the address.
'Margaret,' I exclaimed, 'look at it.'
She did so, and then stared up at me, with a puzzled expression in her eyes, still red with crying.
'I believe,' I went on, 'I believe this is going to help us.'
Peterkin, who had been listening with all his ears, could contain himself no longer.
'And the parrot must be a fairy after all,' he said, 'and he must have done it on purpose.'
But Margaret did not seem to hear what he said, she was still gazing at me and wondering what I was going to say.
'Don't you see,' I went on, touching the envelope, 'this must be the house of some of Mrs. Wylie's relations? Very likely she's staying with them there, and anyway they'd tell us where she is, as we know she's still in London. She told us she was going to be there for a fortnight. And she's very kind. We would ask her to lend us money enough to go back to the Junction, and then we'd be all right. You have got your ticket for Hill Horton, and we have our returns for home.'