Unknown! Well, that, after all, scarcely surprised me. Lola's address generally was unknown. Only her most intimate friends ever knew it; and for obvious reasons. She existed always in a deadly fear.
Perhaps it was that very fear which even now kept her from me!
Several times I had advertised in the personal column of the Matin in the hope that she might see it and communicate with me, but all to no avail.
In Cromer the sensation caused by the mysterious crime had quite died down.
Frayne, in Norwich, had ceased to make further inquiry, and Treeton now regarded the problem as one that would never be solved. So, with the daily arrival of visitors, Cromer and its tradespeople and landladies forgot the curious affair which had afforded them such a "nine days' wonder."
The month of July passed, and, with the London season over, every one rushed to the seaside. Cromer was filled to overflowing. The narrow streets were crowded with well-dressed folk, and large cars passed one at every turn. Stifled town-dwellers were there to enjoy the strong, healthy breezes from the North Sea, and to indulge in the bathing and the golf.
Yet, though August came, I still kept on my room at the Paris, hoping against hope that Lola might yet return.
Quite suddenly, one day, I recollected that curious letter in Italian, signed "Egisto," and addressed to his "Illustrious Master," found at Beacon House.
It had referred to something which had appeared in the Paris Matin of March 17. Consequently I sent to Paris for a copy of the paper, and, one morning, the pale yellow sheet arrived.
"The business we have been so long arranging, was successfully concluded last night," the writer of the letter had said, adding that a report of it appeared in the Matin on the day of this letter.