“He was tall, at least as tall as you are.” She was concentrating fiercely, as if bitterly aware she might not see him again, and all too soon would she find his appearance fading from its present clarity in her mind. “His hair was dark, indeed his coloring was not unlike yours, except that his eyes were not gray, but a most beautiful shade of green. He had very good features, a strong nose and a generous mouth. He was quite gentle in manner, not at all arrogant, but yet no one ever supposed him to be a person with whom one might take liberties.”

He was aware that already she spoke of him in the past. The room was full of her fear and the sense of grief to come. He considered asking her of Stonefield's business affairs, or the likelihood of his having another woman, but he doubted he would receive an answer from her which would be accurate enough to be of any value. It would only distress her unnecessarily. It would be better to seek some tangible evidence and form his own judgment.

He rose to his feet and she rose also, her face tight with apprehension, her chin high, ready to argue with him, plead if necessary.

“I shall begin inquiries, Mrs. Stonefield,” he promised.

Immediately she relaxed, coming as close to a smile as she was capable in her present mind. “Thank you…”

“If you will give me your address?” he asked.

She fished in her reticule and brought out two cards, offering them to him in her gloved hand. “I'm afraid I did not think of a letter of authority…”

She looked embarrassed. “Have you any paper?”

He went to the desk, opened it and took out a plain white sheet of notepaper, a pen, ink and blotting paper. He pulled out the chair where she might sit. While she was writing he glanced at the cards she had given him and saw that the home was on the borders of Mayfair, a very acceptable area for the gentry. The business was south of the river on the Waterloo Road on the edge of Lambeth.