That little difficulty was solved without any loss of time. The important one remained: where was she at the present moment?
On this point Willet could give no information. Her maid had packed her boxes, and they had started off one afternoon when her husband was absent, without a hint of their destination from either of them.
“Doesn’t Lord Wrenwyck know? Surely she must have given him some information, even if it was misleading.”
“I doubt if Wrenwyck knows any more than we do,” replied Willet, alluding to this highly-descended peer with the easy familiarity of his class. “She’s disappeared half-a-dozen times since her marriage in this way, and come back when it suited her, just as if nothing had happened.”
“A rum household,” observed Johnson, who was not so used to high-class ways as his cousin. “But you told me that she had no money when she married him. You can’t travel about for weeks on nothing. What does she do for cash on these jaunts?”
Mr Willet shrugged his shoulders. “Not so difficult as you think. The old man made a handsome settlement on her, and I suppose she times her journeys when she’s got plenty in hand, and comes back when she’s broke. Besides, her bank would let her overdraw, if she wrote to them.”
“You’re right, I didn’t think of that. Her bankers have got her address right enough, and, of course, they wouldn’t give it. They would forward a letter though, if one could write one that would draw her.”
There was a pause after this. Johnson was pondering as to how it was possible to utilise her bankers—somebody in the household would be sure to know who they were. Willet was pondering too, and, as it appeared, to some purpose.
“Look here, you haven’t told me too much, and I don’t blame you either, under the circumstances, but I see you want to get on her track. I’ve an idea I’ll tell you.”
“You’re full of ’em,” said Johnson appreciatively.