“De Gex!” she repeated, her countenance assuming a blank expression. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. I’ve read of him in the papers. He’s a millionaire, they say.”
“You have never heard of him in connexion with Miss Tennison? Is she acquainted with him?”
“Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?”
“I have a distinct reason for asking,” was my reply. “Remember that I am seeking to solve the enigma of your young mistress’s present extraordinary state of mind. Any information you can give me will assist me towards that end.”
As I spoke I heard a sweet contralto voice in the adjoining room break out into a song from one of the popular revues. It was Gabrielle’s voice, I knew.
“All the information I possess, sir, is at your disposal,” the woman assured me. “I only wish Mrs. Tennison was here to answer your questions.”
“But you know as much as she does,” I said. “Now tell me—what is your theory? What happened to your young mistress during the time she disappeared?”
Mrs. Alford lifted her hands in dismay.
“What can we think? She went away quite bright and happy. When she was found wandering on the road between London and Portsmouth her memory was a blank. She was haggard, worn, and much aged—aged in those few days of her absence. She could remember nothing, and all she could repeat were those strange words ‘Red, green and gold.’”
“I wonder why those colours were so impressed upon her memory?” I remarked.