“Of course, everybody’s heard of them,” Peggy said in an offhanded manner. “And that’s why Mr. Agate didn’t like to use the name.”
The woman brightened considerably. “Isn’t that the most romantic thing you ever heard of!” she practically crooned. “And to think that he was living right in our house! Just wait until I tell Maude!”
“Oh, you mustn’t!” Peggy cautioned. “You promised!”
“That’s right, I did.” She patted Peggy on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, my dear, you can trust me.”
“Well, now,” Peggy went on in a more businesslike voice, “have you any idea where we can find Mr. Agate?” She put a slight emphasis on the “we” in order to give the woman a feeling that she was part of the search.
The woman suddenly clapped her hands together. “I just remembered something. When Mr. Agate left here two years ago he told me where he was going. It was a place way over in Baywater on the other side of Long Island. I remember thinking it was rather strange to go so far off, but then he said he wanted to live near the ocean.”
“Did he give an address?”
The woman shook her head regretfully. “No, he refused to leave any. He said there wouldn’t be any mail. And there wasn’t.”
“Can’t you remember anything more than that?”
The woman closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said slowly. “He let the address slip once. It was Tidewater Road, I’m sure of that.”