The search, too, was successful. In a small and narrow street he discovered a small hotel which went by the name of the République. Here his question put to the plump Madame who opened the door at once kindled interest.
“Yes, there was most decidedly an English lady staying there—a young English lady of most distinguished appearance. She had arrived about noon on the day before, and said she intended to stay there for a couple of days, as she expected friends.”
“Had the friends arrived?”
“No, not as yet. Perhaps Monsieur was the friend for whom she waited?”
Westerham doubted that, and found the situation a trifle awkward to explain.
“No,” he said to the fat Madame, he was not the friend whom Mademoiselle had come to meet. He was, however, an acquaintance, and would call later in the day.
Contenting himself with this, he lifted his hat and strolled down the street, followed by the shrewd eyes of the landlady.
He walked on until he felt sure he was no longer observed; then he walked back again.
On the opposite side of the street to the République, a few doors up, he discovered a café of humble aspect, provided with tables beneath an awning at which the thirsty could sit and refresh themselves.
At one of these tables Westerham took a chair, and at the risk of violent indigestion called for more coffee. He sat and sipped the sweet and chicory-flavoured liquid and turned about in his mind the best means of discovering the reason of Lady Kathleen's visit to Rouen.