“I have opened a credit for her,” explained the novelist, wearily, “at the Credit Lyonnais, in Paris.”
Dunbar scribbled busily in his notebook.
“Does she take her maid with her?” he jerked, suddenly.
“She has no maid at the moment,” replied Leroux; “she has been without one for twelve months or more, now.”
“When did you last hear from her?”
“Three days ago.”
“Did you answer the letter?”
“Yes; my answer was amongst the mail which Soames took to the post, to-night.”
“You said, though, if I remember rightly, that he was out without permission?”
Leroux ran his fingers through his hair.