“She’s lodged with me a year and more,” said the landlord. “I don’t know who she was nor where she come from. We can’t afford to be particular here about references. It was enough for me that she kept a typewriter and paid her rent off it. People visited her on business--of course they did. It was no call of mine to enquire into their characters--no, not even when they left late. There was a’many of them, men and women; and I swear I haven’t even my suspicions. She came to be in trouble--it was plain enough to see; and then her customers fell off. She owed me money, I say; and I told her she must go. Humanity’s a luxury for the rich, and I couldn’t afford it. At the last she found me something on account; and at the last of all she came to tell me that it was all right, that he was going to do the handsome thing by her, and that he had written to her to join him. Wild horses wouldn’t drag from her where, or what was the man’s name. She had promised him, she said; and, once arrived, she was going to write to me and settle my account. I saw her off myself from Waterloo. I always liked the girl, in spite of her temper, and I carried down her bag for her, and saw her start by the Windsor train. That was three days ago, and an end of her so far as any message to me is concerned.” “She went by the Windsor train, you say?” “That is so, sir--third class single; and, as she had only a fi-pun note left, I lent her a half sovereign to pay for her ticket, and she gave me eight shillings change. It’s the truth. What reason should I have to deceive you?” “None whatever; and no intention.” To the landlord’s astonishment, the stranger shook him warmly by the hand. “You acted according to your lights,” said Gilead; “and they shone on the whole. You have no suspicion where she’s gone?” “Not a ghost, sir.” “Or of the man’s name?” “Even less, if possible.” “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Mr Nolan. Good-night!” “Gregory,” said Gilead, as, leaving the petrified householder, he walked away with the constable, “this is all Greek to you, of course. Isn’t there some saying about a nod sufficing for a wise man and a rod for a fool?” “I daresay there is, Mr Balm.” “I wonder which I am? Windsor is a terminus on the South Western, isn’t it, and she took the Windsor train, third class single? Her ticket cost two shillings--twenty-four miles at a penny a mile. That ought to tell us what station she was bound for.” “It ought, sir. I think you’re very clever.” “O, don’t anticipate! The rod may be in pickle for me yet. Well, it’s too late to put it to the proof. For to-night good-night, Gregory.” Nevertheless he went to the station, too restless to postpone conclusions altogether. Applying his test to the time-table, he found that the twenty-four mile theory carried him to Datchet--not a mile before or beyond. There was a train that started at ten minutes after midnight. Should he dare everything and go by it?