Turning to Mrs Popejoy, I inquired—
“When you corresponded with her, to what address did you write?”
“To a village post-office somewhere in the Midlands. It was a funny name, which I can’t remember.”
“Do you recollect the county?”
“No. I didn’t put the county. The first letter I wrote was to initials at the office of the newspaper; and in reply I received a letter from Paris, with a request that further letters might be addressed to Miss—what was her name?—Cloud, at this post-office.”
“Then to you she gave her name as Cloud?” I said quickly.
“Yes. At first when you mentioned it I did not recollect. Now I remember.”
“Then you have no idea where she is now!” I said.
“Not the slightest,” the old lady snapped. “I was very glad to see the back of the hussy, for I believe she was no better than she should be, staying out till that hour of the morning. I told Ann to turn out the gas and go to bed, but it seems that she didn’t, and waited up till that unearthly hour. And do you know what,” continued old Mrs Popejoy in a confidential tone, “I believe that there was something very mysterious about her. I have a very shrewd suspicion that she meant to rob me, or do me some evil or other.”
“Why?” I asked eagerly. “What mystery was there surrounding her?”