"Ought to produce some information, certainly," agreed Wedgwood. "Now, did Miss Mortover ever mention this young man to you, ma'am!"
"Well, she did just say there was a young gentleman," admitted the landlady. "That was the very evening she disappeared. She was shy about it—but she did make mention of it. A well-to-do young man, evidently!"
"Quite so, ma'am—able to put down a thousand of the best, anyway!" said the detective. "And a man who can produce a thousand pounds at will has a few more thousand pounds in reserve—you may be sure of that!"
"Well, I'm sure I hope she'll be found, and safe," sighed the landlady. "Such a nice thing for a girl that's earned her own living, to get a rich husband!"
Wedgwood refrained from saying that if all went well, Miss Mortover would prove a highly desirable prize in the marriage market; he bade the landlady communicate with him if she heard anything of her missing lodger and went off to Hunter Street. And as he was about to enter the police-station he came face to face with Thomas Wraypoole.
Thomas Wraypoole looked angry—or, perhaps, puzzled to the verge of annoyance. He had a folded newspaper in his left hand, and
