CHAPTER XXI.

WHEN DIANA FAINTED

Larry could not believe his eyes. He handed the slip to the girl, but she had already seen the signature over his shoulder.

“Clarissa Stuart?” he said slowly. “Do you know her?”

“Never heard of her before,” said the doctor cheerfully. “But she was the person nominated to receive the proceeds of the policy.”

“What is she like?” asked Larry after a pause.

Dr. Judd was lighting a fresh cigarette from the glowing end of another, and he threw the butt into the fireplace before he replied.

“Young, pretty, fashionably dressed,” he said briefly.

“Did she seem--distressed at all?”

“Not at all,” said the doctor. “On the contrary, she was rather amusing.”

They looked at one another, Diana Ward and Larry Holt, and there was blank astonishment in each pair of eyes.

“Did this lady give any address?”

“No, it was not necessary,” said the doctor. “I told you I gave her an open cheque. Well, she seemed a little perturbed at first. She did not want a cheque; so I sent my clerk to the bank to draw the money, and when he brought it back I delivered it to her.”

“So it was in cash?” said Larry.

“Literally it was in cash I paid her,” said Dr. Judd.

“You have never seen her before?” persisted Larry.

Dr. Judd shook his head.

“She came from nowhere so far as I am concerned,” he said. “She was undoubtedly the daughter of Mr. Stuart, or at least, she told me so, and I have no reason to disbelieve her word.”

Larry and the girl were out in the street again before he spoke to the girl.

“It is amazing,” he said. His cab was waiting and he ushered the girl in. “No. 304 Nottingham Place,” he said.

“Where are we going?” asked the girl in surprise.

“We’re going to the lodgings that Stuart had,” replied Larry. “I left the investigation at that point to Sergeant Harvey, and he is a particularly thorough man, but may have missed something. Surely, if Gordon Stuart learnt on the day of his death that he had another daughter, he must have had some visitor?”

“Do you think the girl saw him?” asked Diana quickly. “Clarissa, I mean.”

“It is possible,” replied Larry, “but that is to be discovered.”

No. 304 Nottingham Place was a big and sedate-looking mansion, of the type which is patronized by American visitors of the better class, and Larry and his companion were shown into a comfortable drawing room. A few minutes after, a little lady with white hair came in.

“Mrs. Portland, isn’t it?” said Larry. “My name is Holt. I am from Scotland Yard.”

A look of dismay came to the lady’s face.

“Oh, dear,” she said, evidently distressed. “I did hope that the police had finished with me. It gets this house such a bad name, and I’ve already suffered in consequence. The poor gentleman committed suicide, didn’t he? Why he should I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I have never seen him so cheerful as he was the night just before he went to the theatre. As a rule he was so glum and sad that it depressed me to see him.”

“Cheerful before he went to the theatre?” said Larry quickly. “Unusually so?”

She nodded.

“Had he any visitors in the afternoon?”

“None, sir,” replied the lady, and Larry’s face dropped. “None at all. I told your detective officer who called that he never received visitors. He had been out in the afternoon, and I must confess that he came back a little before we expected him. We had a charwoman in, and she was making his room tidy, and the first I knew about his room was when I passed his door and I heard him having a long conversation with somebody. It was so unusual that I spoke to my head waitress about it.”

“Who was the somebody?” asked Larry, and the landlady smiled.

“It was the charwoman,” she said. “A woman I used to get in to do odd jobs. I thought it was extraordinary, because he never spoke to anybody.”

“How long was the woman with him?” asked Larry.

“Nearly an hour,” was the surprising reply.

“An hour?” said Larry. “He was talking with a charwoman for an hour? What did he talk about?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know. I remember it well, because the charwoman left without drawing her wages. In fact, she must have gone straight out after leaving Mr. Stuart’s room--and she never came back.”

Larry frowned.

“That is important,” he said. “Did you tell Sergeant Harvey?”

“No, sir,” said the lady in surprise. “I didn’t think it was worth while reporting a little domestic incident like that. He asked me if Mr. Stuart had had any visitors, and I replied truthfully that he had not.”

“What was the woman’s name?”

“I don’t know,” said the landlady. “We used to call her Emma. I am surprised she didn’t come back; because she left her wedding ring here. She used to take it off before she started scrubbing. It is a peculiar ring for a woman of her position--half platinum and half gold, and---- Catch that young lady, sir,” she said suddenly.

Larry turned quickly and caught the girl as she fainted.