“Thirty-three, Q., Fig Tree Court, Temple,” he said, and she made a note of it.
He limped slowly down the stairs, supporting himself on his stick, and Blenkiron followed.
As they made their way into Oxford Street, Blenkiron spoke.
“A clever woman—a damned clever woman,” he said. “And what a presence! What a personality! Did you notice that to every question I put to her she had an answer—pat! Yet I don’t believe a word she said, or that she or her parents were ever in Australia. There is some mystery about that woman, and about that fellow Stapleton who is always in her pocket.”
They had turned into Oxford Street, when Blenkiron suddenly caught his companion by the sleeve.
“Look,” he said, “there goes young La Planta, on his way to see our friends. That lad, too, I have grave doubts about!”
CHAPTER IX.
BEFRIENDING A REPORTER.
Though several weeks had passed, no trace had been discovered of Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson’s missing property. For reasons of her own she had prevented any mention of the robbery being made in the newspapers, and apparently even the Metropolitan Secret Agency had this time failed to make good.
Preparations were in progress for the great ball to be given at the Albert Hall by Aloysius Stapleton and his friend, young La Planta, and as Jessica still said she preferred not to act as hostess on that occasion, Stapleton had succeeded in enlisting the services of a well-known peeress who, helped by friends of her own, would receive his guests on the eventful night.