"I am no chance caller," I responded. "During her residence here six years ago I was a welcome guest at her table." "Six years ago is a long time. You may, for aught I know, not be so welcome now." Did she, I wondered, speak the truth? "You certainly speak very plainly, madam," I answered, rising stiffly. "If I have put you to any inconvenience I regret it. I can, no doubt, obtain from some other person the information I require." "Most probably you can, sir," she answered, in a manner quite unruffled. "I tell you that if you write I shall at once forward your letter to her. More than that I cannot do." "I presume you are acquainted with Miss Mabel Anson?" I inquired. She smiled with some sarcasm. "The Anson family do not concern me in the least, sir," she replied, also rising as sign that my unfruitful interview was at an end. Mention of Mabel seemed to have irritated her, and although I plied her with further questions, she would tell me absolutely nothing. When I bowed and took my leave I fear that I did not show her very much politeness. In my eagerness for information, her hesitation to give me Mrs Anson's address never struck me as perfectly natural. She, of course, did not know me, and her offer to forward a letter was all that she could do in such circumstances. Yet at the time I did not view it in that light, but regarded the tenant of that house of mystery as an ill-mannered and extremely disagreeable person. In despair I returned to St James's Street and entered my club, the Devonshire. Several men whom I did not know greeted me warmly in the smoking-room, and, from their manner, I saw that in my lost years I had evidently not abandoned that institution. They chatted to me about politics and stocks, two subjects upon which I was perfectly ignorant, and I was compelled to exercise considerable tact and ingenuity in order to avoid betraying the astounding blank in my mind. After a restless hour I drove back westward and called at old Channing's in Cornwall Gardens in an endeavour to learn Mabel's address. The colonel was out, but I saw Mrs Channing, and she could, alas! tell me nothing beyond the fact that Mrs Anson and her daughter had been abroad for three years past--where, she knew not. They had drifted apart, she said, and never now exchanged letters. "Is Mabel married?" I inquired as carelessly as I could, although in breathless eagerness. "I really don't know," she responded. "I have heard some talk of the likelihood of her marrying, but whether she has done so I am unaware." "And the man whom rumour designated as her husband? Who was he?" I inquired quickly. "A young nobleman, I believe." "You don't know his name?" "No. It was mentioned at the time, but it has slipped my memory. One takes no particular notice of teacup gossip."