“Of Miller’s!” he cried, in his turn surprised. “Is he really one of the gang?”
“Certainly he is. Moreover, I happened to be present when he robbed an American in a hotel at Nervi, near Genoa, and if I said a word to the police he’d ‘do time,’ depend upon it.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because just at the present time it doesn’t suit my purpose,” was my reply. “I want first to find out the reason of his visit here.”
“Wants to establish the death of the fugitive, I suppose. He certainly, however, got nothing out of me. You know me too well, and can trust me not to give away anything that’s a secret.”
“Was he alone?”
“Yes. He came here alone, but Miss Gilbert says that a lady was waiting for him in a hansom a few doors along the road—a young lady, she thinks.”
Was it my Ella, I wondered? If so, she might be in London staying with her aunt, as she so frequently did in the old days.
“How long ago did all this occur?” I asked.
“On Saturday—that would be four days ago. He came about five in the afternoon. When Miss Gilbert referred him to me he apparently resented it, believing that he could induce her to tell him all he wanted.”