She was with me when I saw that strange flame."
"When you imagined you saw it."
"If you prefer it, Val. I am going to see her this afternoon."
"My dear fellow--why?"
"I'll tell you," Julian answered gravely. "I believe she is the woman
who went to the 'European' with Marr, who must have been with Marr when
he was taken ill, and who fled. I have a reason for thinking so."
"What is it?"
"I'll tell you later, when I have talked to her."
"Surely you don't suspect the poor creature of foul play?"
"Not I. It's sheer curiosity that takes me to her."
"Oh."
They rode on a step or two. Then Valentine said:
"Are you going to take her out? She's--well, she is a trifle
unmistakable, Julian."
"Yes, I know. You are right. She's not for afternoon wear, poor soul.
What damned scoundrels men are."
Valentine did not join in the sentiment thus forcibly expressed.
Between four and five that afternoon Julian hailed a cab and drove to
Marylebone Road. The houses in it seemed endless, and dreary alike, but
at length the cab drew up at number 400, tall, gaunt and haggard, like
the rest. Julian rang the bell, and immediately a shrill dog barked with
a piping fury within the house. Then the door was opened by an old woman,
whose arid face was cabalistic, and who looked as if she spent her
existence in expecting a raid from the police.
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