Elsie's heart throbbed fast in the pause that followed. The baby looked at her and gave a faint chuckle, as if it triumphed in the thought that even grown-up people cannot find out all the puzzles of life.
"It came from a house in Dashwood Street," the woman said at last. "They had a regular turn-out of old furniture, and my husband bought a good many things. I'll go and ask him the number of the house."
She disappeared into a gloomy region at the back of the shop, and was lost to sight for a minute or two.
"He says 'twas 132," she said, emerging from the gloom, baby and all.
"We're very much obliged to you," returned Miss Saxon.
"Not at all, ma'am. Glad to have been of use to you."
Elsie came away gaily from the broker's door, in the belief that she was going to walk straight to the goal. But Miss Saxon was less sanguine. Moreover, she had no great faith in the manuscript, and seemed disposed to think that it was written by some one who wanted to make a story.
"It might have been intended for a magazine," she suggested, "and the writer broke off short. We have no proof at all that Meta was a real person."
"I own I have no proof," Elsie admitted frankly. "But I have a feeling that I must seek out Jamie."
"But perhaps Meta is living and taking care of him still, Miss Kilner. People don't always die when they think their end is near. As a matter of fact, the more they think they are going the longer they stay."