“Ah!” I laughed. “I see you don’t like him.” I hoped to get more out of her.
“I do. The doctor’s real good sort, sir. ’E’s been awfully good to me and my girl, Emily. I don’t know what we should ’ave done this winter if we ’adn’t ’ad this place. ’E’s a bit lonely, is the doctor. But ’e’s been a real good gentleman to me.”
“Do you happen to know a friend of his, a Mr. Harold Ruthen,” I asked suddenly.
“Of course I know ’im, sir. ’E’s often ’ere. ’E’s brought a lady once or twice—a pretty young married lady. I don’t know ’er surname, but the doctor calls ’er Thelma.”
Thelma! I held my breath. In face of what I had learned this was staggering.
“I know the lady,” I said, with an inward struggle to remain unexcited. And I went on to describe her and her dress.
“That’s the lady, sir.”
“When was she last here?”
“Oh! Well, it was about three days ago, sir. She came with another young gentleman whom I’d never seen before—she called ’im Stanley.”
Stanley! Could Stanley Audley have been there?