"Mrs. Salmon, 5, Montargis Crescent--second to the right outside," he
announced briefly. "Very good lodgings, too, are those."
Gilling promised Mr. Montmorency that he would look him up later on,
and went away with Copplestone to Montargis Crescent. Within five
minutes they were standing in a comfortably furnished, old-fashioned
sitting-room, liberally ornamented with the photographs of actors and
actresses and confronting a stout, sharp-eyed little woman who
listened intently to all that Gilling said and sniffed loudly when he
had finished.
"Remember Miss Chatfield being here!" she exclaimed. "I should think I do
remember! I ought to! Bringing mortal sickness into my house--and then
death--and then a funeral--and her and her father going away never giving
me an extra penny for the trouble!"
CHAPTER XVIII
THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE
Gilling's glance at his companion was quiet enough, but it spoke volumes.
Here, by sheer chance, was such a revelation as they had never dreamed of
hearing!--here was the probable explanation of at least half the mystery.
He turned composedly to the landlady.
"I've already told you who and what I am," he said, pointing to the card
which he had handed to her. "There are certain mysterious circumstances
about this affair which I want to get at. What you've said just now is
abundant evidence that you can help.
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