“The servants, as I say, have been with us some time. There is old Mrs. Holloway, the cook, and her niece Rose, the kitchenmaid. Then there are two elderly housemaids, and Hannah who was my aunt’s maid and who has always been devoted to me. The parlormaid is called Esther Quant, and seems a very nice quiet girl. As for ourselves, there is Miss Logan who was Aunt Lucy’s companion and who runs the house for me, and Captain Radclyffe—Dennis, you know, whom I told you about, and there is a girl called Mary Chilcott, an old school friend of mine who is staying with us.”
Tommy thought for a moment.
“That all seems fairly clear and straightforward, Miss Hargreaves,” he said after a minute or two. “I take it that you have no special reason for attaching suspicion more to one person than another? You are only afraid it might prove to be—well—not a servant, shall we say?”
“That’s it exactly, Mr. Blunt. I have honestly no idea who used that piece of brown paper. The handwriting was printed.”
“There seems only one thing to be done,” said Tommy. “I must be on the spot.”
The girl looked at him inquiringly.
Tommy went on after a moment’s thought.
“I suggest that you prepare the way for the arrival of—say, Mr. and Miss Van Dusen—American friends of yours. Will you be able to do that quite naturally?”
“Oh! yes. There will be no difficulty at all. When will you come down—tomorrow—or the day after?”
“Tomorrow, if you please. There is no time to waste.”