"I don't care what she calls herself," I declared. "I know very well who she is." I appealed to her. "You recognise me, don't you, dear?"
"Oh, yes," she said.
"There!" to the inspector. "What did I tell you?"
"Remember you quite well," she went on, eyeing me steadily. "You had a ticket as far as New Cross, and I excessed it. You gave me a shilling, and I handed you the right change. What is your grievance?"
The other girl stood by, watching interestedly.
"I am Weston," I said. "Mary Weston."
"If that is the only complaint you have to make," she said, "it is not very serious."
"I was housekeeper for many years at your people's place at Chislehurst. I moved with them to Greenwich. Your brother John enlisted, with my nephew Herbert Millwood. Herbert is more anxious than anyone else to have news of you. He has a commission now."
"And the Victoria Cross?"