“The death of Miss Gabrielle Engledue!” he cried. “I really don’t understand you, Mr.—Mr. Garfield!”
At mention of the name I saw that he started, but almost imperceptibly. The man was certainly a most perfect actor, and his protestations of ignorance were, indeed, well-feigned.
“Then you actually deny all knowledge of the young lady!” I said.
“I know no lady of that name.”
“But she is your niece.”
“I have only one niece—Lady Shalford.”
“And how old is she?”
He hesitated for a few moments. Then he answered.
“Oh! She must be about thirty-five. She married Shalford about ten years ago, and she lives at Wickenham Grange, near Malton, in Yorkshire.”
“And you have no other niece?”