Mr. Dyer laid aside the letter with a grunt of dissatisfaction.
“Well,” he said to himself, “I suppose she expects me to be able to read between the lines, but I’m bothered if I can make head or tail of it all. She seems to me to be going a little wide of the mark just now; it might be as well to give her a hint.” So he dashed off a few brief lines as follows:—
“I suppose you are concentrating now on finding out what were Miss Golding’s movements while absent from her home. It seems to me this could be better done in Paris than at Langford Hall. The ring on her finger necessarily implies that she has gone through a marriage service somewhere, and as she was seen in Paris a day or two ago, it is as likely as not that the ceremony took place there. The Paris police could give you ‘yea or nay’ on this matter within twenty-four hours. As to the maid, Lena, I think you are laying too much stress upon her possible knowledge of her mistress’s movements.
“If she had been tied down to secrecy by promise of reward, she would naturally, now that all such promises are rendered futile, reveal all she knows on the matter—she has nothing to gain by keeping the secrets of the dead.”
This letter crossed on its road a telegram from Loveday running thus:—
“Inquest over. Verdict, ‘Found drowned, but how deceased got into the water there is no evidence to show.’ Funeral takes place tomorrow; Mr. Golding delirious with brain fever.”
On the day following Mr. Dyer received a second letter from Loveday. Thus it ran:—
“The funeral is over; Mr. Golding is much worse, I have dispatched Lena to Paris, telling her I require her services there to follow up a clue I hold respecting Mr. Gordon Cleeve, and promising her rewards commensurate with the manner in which she carries out my orders. I have also written to Lord Guilleroy, telling him the sort of assistance I require from him. If he is the man I take him for he will be more useful to me than all the Paris police put together. I will answer your letter in detail in a day or two. The neighbourhood is still in a state of great excitement, and all sorts of wild reports are flying about. Ramsay and Dulau have traced a lady, dressed in dark blue serge, and answering in other respects to Miss Golding’s description, from the Gare du Midi, Paris, step by step to her arrival at Langford Cross, whence, poor thing, she must have walked through the pouring rain to the Hall. I do not see, however, that this information helps us forward one step towards the solution of the mystery of the girl’s disappearance. Ramsay is a little inclined to criticize what he calls my ‘leisurely handling’ of the case. Mrs. Greenhow, who is a terribly empty-headed, but at the same time essentially hard-natured little woman, appears disposed to follow suit, and has more than once thrown out hints that my stay in the house is being unnecessarily prolonged. As there is practically no further necessity for my remaining at the Hall, I have told her that I shall today take up my quarters at the Roebuck Inn (by courtesy hotel), at Langford Cross. I believe she is unfeignedly glad at what she considers the ending of the affair. The imperious yet fascinating young lady no doubt ruled her and the household generally with a rod of iron, and the little woman, I feel sure, if she had dared, would have ordered bonfires and a general rejoicing on the day of the funeral. Well, I have not much sympathy with her, and am preparing for her a shock to her not too-sensitive nerves which she little suspects. My chief anxiety at the present moment is Mr. Golding, who still remains unconscious. I have requested the doctors to send me two bulletins daily of his condition, which I fear is a most serious one.”
There could be little doubt on this head. The doctors’ verdict on the day that Loveday left Langford Hall for “The Roebuck” was: “Absolutely no hope.” The bulletin brought to her on the following morning was “Condition remains unchanged.” On the third day, however, the report was “Slight improvement.” Then followed the welcome bulletins of “Improvement maintained,” and “Out of danger,” to be followed by the most welcome report of all: “Is making steady progress towards recovery.”
“It is Mr. Golding’s illness that has kept me here so long,” said Loveday to Inspector Ramsay, as if by way of apology for her continued presence on the scene. “I think, however, I can see my way to departure now. Going to Paris? Oh, dear me, no. I have telegraphed to Mr. Dyer to expect me back the day after tomorrow; if you will like to come to me
