"Oh, yes, I understand that!" said Miss Robinson, smiling. "Very well! You mean, if it's Manchester, I just write down Manchester; if it's Paris, I write Paris?"
"You've got it!" assented Wedgwood. "Do it at once, if you see anything from her. Now another question or two. Have you ever seen a woman named Clagne, Mrs. Clagne, at Mr. Levigne's?"
"I've never seen anybody that I know by that name," answered Miss Robinson. "There was an oldish woman came there one evening some little time ago and had dinner with Mr. Levigne and Miss Monniment—a queer-looking woman, dressed in very old-fashioned style."
"Tall, thin woman?" suggested the detective. "Dark eyes!"
"Black eyes—yellow skin—scraggy," said Miss Robinson. "Regular old witch, I thought her!"
"Well, what do you mean by some little time ago?" asked Wedgwood. "Six months? Three months?"
"All about a month—I can't say exactly. But I remember her well enough, though I don't know her name. I was in and out of the room while they were having dinner, and I couldn't keep my eyes off her—I thought I'd never seen
