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Woodroffe's chambers were closed.
"'E's nearly always away, sir--abroad, I think," was all I could get out
of the old soldier, who, like his class, was no doubt well paid to keep
his mouth closed.
For two days I lounged about Westbourne Grove watching Ferrari's
restaurant. In such a busy, bustling thoroughfare, with so many shop
windows as excuses for loitering, the task was easy. I saw that Olinto
came regularly at ten o'clock in the morning, worked hard all day, and
left at nine o'clock at night, taking an omnibus home from Royal Oak.
His exterior was calm and unconcerned, unlike that of a man whose
devoted wife had disappeared.
I would have approached him and explained the ghastly truth, had it not
been for the fact that the poor woman's body was missing.
Those September days were full of anxiety for me. Alone and unaided I
was trying to solve one of the greatest of problems, plunged as I was in
a veritable sea of mystery. I wanted to see Muriel Leithcourt, and to
question her further regarding Elma Heath.


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