“Doesn’t live here?” I echoed dubiously. “Why, only a short time ago I saw her enter here!”
“Well, sir, I don’t know her. I’ve never heard the name.”
“Is Mrs Popejoy in?” I inquired.
“Yes, sir. If you wish to see her, please step inside.”
We both entered the hall, the usual broad passage of a suburban house, with its cheap hall-stand, couple of straight-backed wooden chairs, and a long chest in imitation carved oak. The girl disappeared for a few moments, and on returning ushered us into the dining-room, where we found a rather sour-looking old lady standing ready to greet us. She was about sixty, grey-haired, thin-faced, and wore a cap with faded cherry-coloured ribbons.
“Mrs Popejoy, I believe?” I exclaimed politely, receiving in return a bow, the stiffness of which was intended to show breeding. Then continuing, I said: “I have called on a rather urgent matter concerning your niece, Miss Aline Cloud; but the servant tells me she is not at home, and I thought you would perhaps tell me where I can find her without delay.”
“My niece!” she exclaimed in surprise. “My poor niece died ten years ago.”
“Ten years ago!” I gasped. “And is not Miss Cloud your niece?”
“I have no niece of that name, sir,” she answered. “The name indeed is quite strange to me. There must be some mistake.”
“But your name is Popejoy,” I exclaimed, “and this is Number sixteen, Ellerdale Road?”