“But that’s Mr. Armour!” the woman cried in a delighted voice.
“Mr. Armour?”
“Yes. He lived with us for over a year and a half.”
“You mean he’s moved?” Peggy heard the disappointment in her own voice. Tom Agate had chosen another name.
“I’m afraid he has,” the woman said. She beckoned Peggy into the living room. “Here, won’t you come in for a few moments? You look tired.”
“Well, yes, I am,” Peggy admitted. “I’ve been going since early this morning.”
“Trying to find Mr. Armour?” the woman asked, sitting down in an easy chair.
Peggy nodded as she took a chair near the door. “Yes. It’s a terribly complicated story, but believe me, it’s important that I locate him.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you all I know,” the woman said. “A little less than two years ago, Mr. Armour rang my front doorbell and asked if he could rent a room. Well, I had never rented a room before, but it just so happened that my son had recently left home.” The woman smiled shyly. “He had just gotten married, you see.”
Peggy smiled back and nodded.