"Is Miss Cloud at home?" I inquired of the maid, as Ash stood behind in
wonder.
"She doesn't live here, sir," replied the girl.
"Doesn't live here?" I echoed dubiously. "Why, only a short time ago I
saw her enter here!"
"Well, sir, I don't know her. I've never heard the name."
"Is Mrs Popejoy in?" I inquired.
"Yes, sir. If you wish to see her, please step inside."
We both entered the hall, the usual broad passage of a suburban house,
with its cheap hall-stand, couple of straight-backed wooden chairs, and
a long chest in imitation carved oak. The girl disappeared for a few
moments, and on returning ushered us into the dining-room, where we
found a rather sour-looking old lady standing ready to greet us. She
was about sixty, grey-haired, thin-faced, and wore a cap with faded
cherry-coloured ribbons.
"Mrs Popejoy, I believe?" I exclaimed politely, receiving in return a
bow, the stiffness of which was intended to show breeding. Then
continuing, I said: "I have called on a rather urgent matter concerning
your niece, Miss Aline Cloud; but the servant tells me she is not at
home, and I thought you would perhaps tell me where I can find her
without delay."
"My niece!" she exclaimed in surprise. "My poor niece died ten years
ago."
"Ten years ago!" I gasped. "And is not Miss Cloud your niece?"
"I have no niece of that name, sir," she answered. "The name indeed is
quite strange to me. There must be some mistake."
"But your name is Popejoy," I exclaimed, "and this is Number sixteen,
Ellerdale Road?"
"Certainly."
"Truth to tell, madam," I said, "I have called on you in order to assure
myself of a certain very extraordinary fact."
"What is it?"
"Well, late on a certain night some weeks ago I accompanied Miss Cloud,
the lady I am now in search of, to this house. I sat in the cab while
she got out, and with my own eyes saw her admitted by your maid. This
strikes me as most extraordinary, in lace of your statement that you
know nothing of her." The old lady reflected.
"What cock-and-bull story did she tell you?" she inquired quickly.
"Explain it all to me, then perhaps I can help you."
There was something about Mrs Popejoy's manner that I did not like. I
could have sworn that she was concealing the truth.
"Well," I said, "I met Miss Cloud at a theatre, and she told me that you
and another lady had accompanied her; that you had got separated, and
being a stranger in London she did not know her way home. Therefore I
brought her back, and saw her enter here."
The old lady smiled cynically.
"My dear sir," she said, "you've been very neatly imposed upon. In the
first place, I have no niece; secondly, I've never entered a theatre for
years; thirdly, I've never heard of any girl named Cloud; and fourthly,
she certainly does not live here."
"But with my own eyes I saw her enter your door," I said. "I surely can
believe what I have seen!"
"It must have been another house," she answered. "There are several in
this road similar in appearance to mine."
"No. Number sixteen," I said. "I looked it up previously in the
Directory and saw your name. There can be no mistake."
"Well, sir," snapped the old lady, "I am mistress of this house, and
surely I ought to know whether I have a niece or not! What kind of lady
was she?"
"She was young, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and very good-looking. She had
lived in France previously, at Montgeron, near Paris."
"Ah!" the old lady cried suddenly. "Why, of course, the hussy! Now I
remember. It is quite plain that she duped you."
"Tell me," I exclaimed eagerly. "Where is she now?"
"How should I know? She wasn't my niece at all. A few weeks ago I
advertised in the _Christian World_ for a companion, and engaged her.
She came one afternoon, and said that coming from France she had left
all her luggage at Victoria. She was exceedingly pleasant, took tea
with me, and afterwards at her request I allowed her to go down to
Victoria to see about her boxes. That was about six o'clock, but she
did not return until nearly two o'clock in the morning, and when I
questioned her she said that she had been unable to find the office
where her luggage had been placed, and had been wandering about, having
lost her way. I didn't believe such a lame story, and the consequence
was that she left after a week, and I haven't seen her since."