waitresses says she's seen him here now and then talking to Avice Mortover, and once she saw him waiting outside for her when the staff left—saw her join him, in fact."
"Do you know her private address?" asked Wedgwood.
"I do—but I don't know that I ought to give it," replied the manageress. "I've just written to her there asking why she hasn't been to her work. If you call here to-morrow afternoon—"
"No," interrupted Wedgwood, firmly. "Sorry, but my business is urgent." He laid his professional card before the manageress. "You see who I am, and what," he went on. "I'm investigating some business which concerns Miss Mortover———"
"Nothing against her, I hope!" said the manageress. "Nothing———"
"No—no!" protested Wedgwood. "It's in relation to some property to which she has a claim. It's necessary that I should see her at once, and if you give me her address, of course———"
"Oh, well!" said the manageress. "It's 350 Mornington Crescent. But I shouldn't have given it if you hadn't told me who you were."
"Did you give it to the young man you mentioned?" enquired Wedgwood.
"He never asked for it! I shouldn't have
