"She was, but she is not now," contradicted Ellis. "She gave up her place."
Mrs. Amber's face expressed unqualified amazement. "Dear me, how does she intend to live?"
"I don't know. Mrs. Moxton may keep her."
"But Mrs. Moxton hasn't a shilling. Her husband's father disinherited him for marrying her."
"Oh, she will come in for some of the property," said Ellis, trying to explain without mentioning about the burnt will. "Old Moxton died intestate, so half his estate will go to his son's widow. But tell me, Mrs. Amber, do you know a man called Busham?"
"Mrs. Moxton's lawyer." Ellis rose to take his leave. "Well, Mrs. Amber," he said, "I am much obliged for the information you have given me. For certain private reasons I wish to find out who murdered Moxton, but it seems you cannot help me."
"No, I know of no one. I cannot guess who would be such a villain. But if anyone knows, it will be Janet Gordon. She must have handled the body, as those blood-stained cuffs show."
"You knew that she was at Dukesfield on that night?"
"Yes, she told me she was going, and that M. Zirknitz intended to fetch her home. That was why I wished to see her next day when the papers were full of the murder. I thought she might know something about it. And I am sure she does know," cried Mrs. Amber; "else why did she shut herself up in her room all these weeks? I wouldn't have stood it from anyone but Janet Gordon, I can tell you."
"You appear to have a great admiration for her."
"I have. Women, Dr. Ellis, do not as a rule admire one another, but when I know how Janet Gordon has protected that silly sister of hers, and looked after her scampish brother, I think of her as one of the noblest women I have ever met."
With this eulogy bestowed, in the opinion of Ellis, on the wrong woman, Mrs. Amber parted from him with theatrical effusion. The doctor left the Pimlico house in a musing frame of mind. It was strange that Mrs. Amber, who seemed to be a good-natured woman in spite of her many affectations, should think so little of Mrs. Moxton. Ellis piqued himself upon being a reader of character, and he could not bring himself to believe that he was mistaken in the widow. But he was puzzled to think how completely Mrs. Amber's estimate of her nature differed from his own. Thinking about Mrs. Moxton recalled his mind to the fact of her disappearance and he wondered if Schwartz would know of her whereabouts. With this in his mind he hailed a hansom and drove to Soho. In the meantime, pending the discovery of Mrs. Moxton, he dismissed all speculations concerning her from his mind. So far as he could see, time and association were needed to explain her very complex character. After the interview with Mrs. Amber, the doctor considered the little woman more of a sphinx than ever, and he wanted her to speak and unravel the enigma of her being.