"
"I'm sure it was conducted well, sir," said Susan, who
appeared rather indignant. "Senora Gredos was a most
respectable lady."
"She lived alone always, I believe?"
"Yes, sir." Then Susan hesitated. "I wonder if she had a
mother?"
"Why do you wonder?"
"Well, sir, the lady who came to see Miss Loach--"
"Mrs. Herne?"
"I heard her name was Mrs. Herne, but she was as like Senora
Gredos as two peas, save that she was older and had gray
hair."
"Hum!" said Jennings, pondering. "Did you ever hear Senora
Gredos speak of Mrs. Herne?"
"Never, sir. But Mrs. Pill--the cook of Miss Loach--said
that Mrs. Herne lived at Hampstead. But she was like my old
mistress. When I opened the door to her I thought she was
Senora Gredos. But then the scent may have made me think
that."
Jennings looked up sharply. "The scent? What do you mean?"
"Senora Gredos," explained Susan quietly, "used a very nice
scent--a Japanese scent called Hikui. She used no other,
and I never met any lady who did, save Mrs. Herne."
"Oh, so Mrs. Herne used it."
"She did, sir. When I opened the door on that night," Susan
shuddered, "the first thing I knew was the smell of Hikui
making the passage like a hairdresser's shop. I leaned
forward to see if the lady was Senora Gredos, and she turned
her face away. But I caught sight of it, and if she isn't
some relative of my last mistress, may I never eat bread
again."
"Did Mrs.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130