“But as to Emma Trennatt now. This photograph is most welcome, and will be of great assistance, I make no doubt. But is there anything individual by which I might identify her if I saw her--anything beyond what I see in the photograph? A peculiarity of step, for instance, or a scar, or what not.” “Yes, there is a large mole--more than a quarter of an inch across, I should think--on her left cheek, an inch below the outer corner of her eye. The photograph only shows the other side of the face.” “That will be useful to know. Now has she a relative living at Crouch End, or thereabout?” “Yes, her uncle; she’s living with him now--or she was at any rate till lately. But how did you know that?” “The Crouch End postmark was on those envelopes you found. Do you know anything of her uncle?” “Nothing, except that he’s a nurseryman, I believe.” “Not his full address?” “No.” “And Trennatt is his name?” “Yes.” “Thank you. I think, Mrs. Geldard,” Hewitt said, taking his hat, “that I will set out after your husband at once. You, I think, can do no better than stay at home till I have news for you. I have your address. If anything comes to your knowledge, please telegraph it to my office at once.” The office door was locked, the keys were left with the caretaker, and we saw Mrs. Geldard into a cab at the door. “Come,” said Hewitt, “we’ll go somewhere and look at a directory, and after that to Dragon Yard. I think I know a man in Moorgate Street who’ll let me see his directory.” We started to walk down Finsbury Pavement. Suddenly Hewitt caught my arm and directed my eyes toward a woman who had passed hurriedly in the opposite direction. I had not seen her face, but Hewitt had. “If that isn’t Miss Emma Trennatt,” he said, “it’s uncommonly like the notion I’ve formed of her. We’ll see if she goes to Geldard’s office.” We hurried after the woman, who, sure enough, turned into the large door of the building we had just left. As it was impossible that she should know us, we followed her boldly up the stairs, and saw her stop before the door of Geldard’s office, and knock. We passed her as she stood there--a handsome young woman enough--and well back on her left cheek, in the place Mrs. Geldard had indicated, there was plain to see a very large mole. We pursued our way to the landing above and there we stopped in a position that commanded a view of Geldard’s door. The young woman knocked again and waited. “This doesn’t look like an elopement yesterday morning, does it?” Hewitt whispered. “Unless Geldard’s left both this one and his wife in the lurch.” The young woman below knocked once or twice more, walked irresolutely across the corridor and back, and in the end, after a parting knock, started slowly back downstairs.