Nick slipped the letter into his pocket, also the torn envelope, then arose and turned to the landlady.
“Do you know where Miss Perrot sent her trunk, or who took it away?” he inquired.
“I do not, Mr. Carter. A man with a wagon came after it.”
“An expressman?”
“I don’t think so. There was no name on the wagon.”
“You saw the man and the team?”
“I did, sir.”
“Can you describe them?”
“Only in a general way. The man was short, thickset, and quite dark. The horse was a gray one, and the wagon of moderate size, without a top.”
“Very good,” Nick said approvingly. “There is no doubt in my mind, Mrs. Lord, that Pauline Perrot will never return to this house. She is probably a very clever criminal.”