Without any trouble, I found No. 19, Grove Street, then rang the bell and looked round me. It was a clean unpretentious street, not to be known by its architecture from a thousand others in London. The bell was answered by a neat little girl, and I asked for the Master of the house. Clever tactics truly for commencing a task like mine. Being told that the Master was from home, I begged to see the Mistress. The little maid hesitated awhile, with the chain of the door in her hand, and then invited me into the parlour, a small room, but neat and pretty. "Please, Miss, what name shall I say?" "Miss Vaughan, if you please." Then I said to myself, "What good am I? Is this my detective adroitness?" Presently a nice old lady, with snow-white hair, came in. "Miss Vaughan," she asked with a pleasant smile, "do you wish to see me?" "Yes, if you please. Just to ask a few questions as to the inmates of this house." Despite her kindness and good breeding, the lady stared a little. "May I inquire your motives? Do you know me at all? I have not the pleasure of knowing you." "My motives I must not tell you. But, as a lady, I assure you, that curiosity is not one. Neither are they improper." She looked at me in great surprise, examined me closely, and then replied: "Young lady, I believe what you say. It is impossible not to do so. But my answering you must depend on the nature of your inquiries. You have done, excuse my saying it, you have done a very odd thing." "I will not ask many questions. How many people live here?" "I will answer you curtly as you ask, unless you ask what I do not choose to answer. Four people live here, namely, my husband, myself, our only daughter--but for whom I might have been ruder to you--and the child who let you in. Also a woman comes every day to work." "Are there no more? Forgive my impertinence. No strangers to the family?" "No lodgers whatever. My son is employed in the City, and sleeps there. My only daughter is in very weak health, and though we do not want all the house, we are not obliged to take lodgers. A thing I never would do, because they always expect to be cheated." "And is your husband an Englishman?" "Yes, and an English writer, not altogether unknown." She mentioned a name of good repute in the world of letters, as even I was aware. "You have quite satisfied me. I thank you most heartily. Very few would have been so polite and kind. I fear you must think me a very singular being. But I have powerful motive, and am quite a stranger in London." "My dear, I knew that at once. No Londoner would have learned from me the family history I have told you. I should have shown them out at the very first question. Thank you, oh thank you, my child. But I am sure you have hurt yourself. Oh, the shell has run into your forehead."