Rolfe knew from his inquiries in West End shops that
handkerchiefs of that pattern and quality were stocked by many of the
good shops, but the fact that he had found a handkerchief of this kind in
the house of a lady who had abstracted secret letters from the murdered
man's desk, and had, moreover, discovered the name of the shop where she
bought her handkerchiefs, convinced him that he had struck a path which
must lead to an important discovery.
Mademoiselle Chiron followed Rolfe into the hall and watched his
departure from a front window. When she saw his retreating figure turn
the corner of the street she left the window, ran upstairs quickly, and
knocked lightly at the closed door.
The door was opened by Mrs. Holymead, who appeared to be in a state of
nervous agitation. Her large brown eyes were swollen and dim with
weeping, her hair had become partly unloosened, her face was white and
her dress disordered. She caught the Frenchwoman by the wrist and drew
her into the bedroom, closing the door after her.
"What did he want, Gabrielle?" she gasped. "What did he say? Has he come
about--_that_?"
Gabrielle nodded her head.
"Gabrielle!" Mrs.
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