“She certainly is decidedly ugly with that cross-eye of hers. It struck me, too, that she had an ancient and witch-like aspect when she admitted me,” she laughed.
Thus we chatted on until the bell on the Hall struck seven and she rose to go, first, however, inviting Dick to accompany me to Riverdene, an invitation which he gladly accepted. Then she bade him adieu and I accompanied her out into Holborn, where I placed her in a taxi for Waterloo.
On re-entering the room, Dick’s first exclamation was—
“Did you notice how her face changed when I mentioned the horror?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Her name’s Blain, and I presume she’s the daughter of Mrs Blain who is tenant of that house in Kensington?”
I nodded.
“An old flame of yours. I remember now that you once spoke of her.”
“Quite true.”
“Well, old fellow,” he said, “it was quite apparent when I mentioned the tragedy that she feared the discovery had been made in Kensington. Depend upon it she can, if she likes, tell us a good deal.”