"Came in a van?" interrupted Gebb, profoundly astonished. "Yes! she rode beside the driver, and he assisted her to set out the parlour in the style you saw. It was all done in a day by the pair, for Miss Ligram would not let me help." "Perhaps she was afraid of your asking the driver questions as to where she came from?" suggested Gebb, shrewdly. "She might have saved herself the trouble," said Mrs. Presk, grimly. "I did speak to the driver, and asked that very question, only to find that he was deaf and dumb." "Queer!" murmured the detective, rubbing his nose. "She took good care to hide her past I wonder why?" "I don't," snapped the landlady with feminine malevolence; "it's my opinion that Miss Ligram's past was not respectable." "H'm! I must say it looks like it. What was the name on the van?" "There was no name, Mr. Gebb. The van--painted yellow, with one grey horse and a red-headed driver, deaf and dumb--was the private property of Miss Ligram. It was not the first time she had moved that yellow room about," and the widow nodded significantly. "Why are you doubtful of Miss Ligram's past?" "Well!" said Mrs. Presk, taking time to answer this question, "you can only judge a person's past by a person's present, and Miss Ligram knew too many shady people for my taste." "Shady people!" echoed Gebb, pricking up his ears at this hint of a clue; "what sort of people?" "Fortune-tellers, conjurors, spiritualists, and such-like, sir." "Ah!" Gebb recalled the spread-out pack of cards, "so she was rather superstitious." "Superstitious!" cried Mrs. Presk, casting up her eyes. "She was a very pagan for omens, and talismans, and consultation of cards. There wasn't a fortune-teller in London she hadn't down here at one time or another to read her hand, or question the stars, or look into the crystal ball, or spread out the cards. She was a perfect gold mine to those swindlers, believing all their lies, like the poor benighted heathen she was." "What did she particularly seek to know?" "The future!" was the landlady's curt reply. "No doubt," returned Gebb, dryly; "and her own future at that. But was there any particular aim in her questioning?" "Yes!" said Mrs. Presk, with a burst of confidence, "there was. I found it out from one of her fortune-telling visitors. She wanted to know if she would die by violence." "So!" said Gebb, drawling out the word reflectively in the German fashion. "And was a violent death predicted?" "It was--by the fortune-teller I asked, Mr. Gebb; and sure enough the prediction came true, though, as a rule, I don't believe in such rubbish; still it was queer she should die with the ace of spades in her lap." "A fortune-teller was with her on the night she was killed," said Gebb, after a pause. "How do you know, sir?" questioned Mrs. Presk, eagerly.