‘You did not find him at all?’
‘No, I didn’t find him at all. I never expected to find him, considering that he was an older man than my father, and that my father has been dead for sixteen years.’
‘To be sure,’ said Lady William faintly.
‘I found his name, however, all right, and the place—not quite in the City, as I thought—St. Alban’s proprietary chapel, Marylebone.’
‘Ah!’
‘Do you remember the name?’
‘No,’ said Lady William; ‘I’m afraid I don’t remember even the name.’
‘Well, never mind; Gepps was incumbent then. And a very good place, too, for anything that was to be kept quiet—hidden away in a labyrinth of little streets; not so noticeable as the City, where an old church in the midst of warehouses is often something to see. Lady Somebody or other’s proprietary chapel; incumbent, the Rev. T. I. Gepps. No doubt that was the one.’
‘Was it like my description? But, to be sure, it may have been changed, or restored, or something.’
‘I can tell nothing about that. It has been changed with a vengeance. Emily, the chapel has been burned down——’