“And I believe you told me, Frau Mannheim, that you saw Mr. Tobias Greene a year before your husband’s death. That would have been about the time your husband entered the hospital—fourteen years ago.”
She looked vaguely at Vance, but made no reply.
“And it was exactly fourteen years ago that Mr. Greene adopted Ada.”
The woman caught her breath sharply. A look of panic contorted her face.
“So when your husband died,” continued Vance, “you came to Mr. Greene, knowing he would give you a position.”
He went up to her and touched her filially on the shoulder.
“I have suspected for some time, Frau Mannheim,” he said kindly, “that Ada is your daughter. It’s true, isn’t it?”
With a convulsive sob the woman hid her face in her apron.
“I gave Mr. Greene my word,” she confessed brokenly, “that I wouldn’t tell any one—not even Ada—if he let me stay here—to be near her.”
“You haven’t told any one,” Vance consoled her. “It was not your fault that I guessed it. But why didn’t Ada recognize you?”