"Well—she asked for Miss Mortover, did she? Give any name herself?"
"No—she didn't. And I never thought to ask her for one. Miss Mortover was in my sitting-room; she used to sit with me of an evening. I went and told her of this lady, and she came up here at once."
"Did Miss Mortover seem to expect her?"
"Oh, dear me, no! I'm sure she didn't. She remarked as she went out that she wondered who it could be?"
"Did you overhear any conversation between them?"
"Oh, no! This door was shut, of course—besides, my sitting-room is downstairs. No, I heard nothing—at least, no talk. They were in this room some time—half an hour, I should think. Then I heard Miss Mortover go upstairs to her own room. She was there some little time; then she came down again. A minute or two later I heard them go out of the front door. And since then—in fact, since the moment in which she left my sitting-room to come up to the visitor in this parlour—I've neither set eyes on Miss Mortover nor heard a word from her!"
"She's not the sort of young woman you'd expect to be inconsiderate, I suppose?" asked Wedgwood.
