‘I asked her if she knew who and what Captain Desmond was. She could only tell me that when Stephen made his acquaintance he was living at a boarding-house at Boulogne, and had been living there for some months. He had spent a considerable part of his life abroad. He had nobody belonging to him, and he seemed to belong to nobody; though he often boasted vaguely of grand connections. To poor Laura’s mind he was nothing more or less than an adventurer. “He flatters my husband,” she said, “and he tries to flatter me. He is very often at Chiswick, and whenever he comes he takes my husband back to London with him, and then I see no more of Stephen till the next day, or perhaps not for two or three days after. He has what his friend calls a shake-down at Captain Desmond’s lodgings in May’s Buildings, St. Martin’s Lane.”’ ‘Aunt,’ exclaimed Laura eagerly, ‘will you let me copy that address? It might be of use to me, if I should have to trace the past life of this man.’ She wrote the address in a little memorandum book contained in her purse. ‘My dear, why should you trouble yourself about Captain Desmond,’ said the old lady. ‘Whatever harm he did your poor father is past and done with. Nothing can alter or mend it now.’ ‘No, aunt, but as long as this man lives he will go on doing harm. He will go from small crimes to great ones. It is his nature. Please go on with the diary, dear aunt. You can have no idea how valuable this information is to me.’ ‘I have always felt I was doing a useful act in keeping a diary, my dear. I am not surprised to find this humble record of inestimable value,’ said the old lady, who was bursting with gratified vanity. ‘Where would history be if people in easy circumstances, and with plenty of leisure, did not keep diaries? I do not think there is any more about Captain Desmond. No; your mother tells me about her own health. She is feeling very low and ill. She fears she will not live many years, and then what is to become of poor little Laura?’ ‘Did you ever go to Chiswick, aunt?’ ‘Never, till after your poor father’s death. I attended his funeral.’ ‘Was Captain Desmond present?’ ‘No; but he was with your father up till the last hour of his life. I heard that from the landlady. He helped to nurse him.’ ‘I thank you, aunt, with all my heart, for what you have told me. I will come and see you again in a few days, if I may.’ ‘Do, my dear, and bring your husband.’ Laura shivered. ‘I should like to make his acquaintance. If you will mention the day a little beforehand, I should be pleased for you to take your luncheon with me. I have the cook who roasted that duckling for your poor mother still with me.’ ‘I shall be pleased to come, aunt. We are in London upon very serious business, but I hope it will soon be ended, and when it is over I will tell you all about it.’