“That’s just what I am striving my utmost to do. I have learnt that she was the daughter of a French restaurant-keeper, living somewhere in London, and that after Harborne’s death she married a Frenchman, whose name I am unable, as yet, to ascertain.”
“You will soon know it, Darnborough,” remarked the Earl with a faint smile. “You always know everything.”
“Is it not my profession?” the other asked. “Yes, I shall try to discover this lady, for I have a theory that she knows something which we ought to know. In addition, she knows who killed Richard Harborne.”
“I sincerely hope that you will be successful,” declared the Foreign Minister. “By Harborne’s death Britain has lost a fearless patriot, a man who served his country as truly and as well as any bedecorated general, and who had faced death a dozen times unflinchingly in the performance of his duties to his country and his sovereign.”
“Yes,” declared Darnborough, “if any man deserved a C.M.G. or a knighthood, Dick Harborne most certainly did. I am the only person who is in the position of knowing how devotedly he served his country.”
“I know, I know!” exclaimed the Earl. “And if he had lived it was my intention of including his name in the next Birthday Honours list.”
“Poor fellow,” remarked his chief. “I wonder who that woman Montague was, and whether she really had any hand in the crime? That he was fond of her I have learned on good authority, yet Dick was, after all, not much of a ladies’ man. Therefore I am somewhat surprised at the nature of the information I have gathered. Nevertheless, I mean to find the woman—and to know the truth.”
“Have you any clue whatever to her identity?” inquired the Earl, looking at him strangely.
“None, save what I have told you,” was the slow, deliberate reply. “But I think I shall eventually find her.”
“You will, Darnborough. I know well what you mean when you reply in those terms. I have experienced your vague responses before,” laughed his lordship.