"How should I know? She wasn't my niece at all. A few weeks ago I advertised in the _Christian World_ for a companion, and engaged her. She came one afternoon, and said that coming from France she had left all her luggage at Victoria. She was exceedingly pleasant, took tea with me, and afterwards at her request I allowed her to go down to Victoria to see about her boxes. That was about six o'clock, but she did not return until nearly two o'clock in the morning, and when I questioned her she said that she had been unable to find the office where her luggage had been placed, and had been wandering about, having lost her way. I didn't believe such a lame story, and the consequence was that she left after a week, and I haven't seen her since." I stood dumbfounded. "That's a strange story, sir," observed Ash, who was standing near. "It's amazing!" I said. "And it complicates matters very considerably." Turning to Mrs Popejoy, I inquired-- "When you corresponded with her, to what address did you write?" "To a village post-office somewhere in the Midlands. It was a funny name, which I can't remember." "Do you recollect the county?" "No. I didn't put the county. The first letter I wrote was to initials at the office of the newspaper; and in reply I received a letter from Paris, with a request that further letters might be addressed to Miss-- what was her name?--Cloud, at this post-office." "Then to you she gave her name as Cloud?" I said quickly. "Yes. At first when you mentioned it I did not recollect. Now I remember." "Then you have no idea where she is now!" I said. "Not the slightest," the old lady snapped. "I was very glad to see the back of the hussy, for I believe she was no better than she should be, staying out till that hour of the morning. I told Ann to turn out the gas and go to bed, but it seems that she didn't, and waited up till that unearthly hour. And do you know what," continued old Mrs Popejoy in a confidential tone, "I believe that there was something very mysterious about her. I have a very shrewd suspicion that she meant to rob me, or do me some evil or other." "Why?" I asked eagerly. "What mystery was there surrounding her?" "Well," she responded after some little hesitation, "I was very glad indeed when she went off in a flounce, and I hope she'll never darken my door again. You may think me very timid, but if you had seen what I discovered after she had gone you'd have been of my way of thinking." "What did you discover?" I asked, surprised. "Well, in her bedroom there was, in a small silver box, an old ring that my late husband had prized very much. It had belonged to one of the Popes, and had been blessed by him. The relic was no doubt an extremely valuable one." "And when she went?" I asked.