Morley, was answer enough; she looked as if she bore all the trouble of the world upon her shoulders. He had not; nothing had been seen or heard of him.
The point at which I was aiming was the photographer's. As I walked away from Philip Lawrence's house, I could not but feel conscious that every moment he remained absent made the case look blacker. What reason could he have to stay away, save one?
An assistant came forward to greet me, as I crossed the threshold of the building which housed that famous firm of photographers.
"I want you to tell me who is the original of one of your portraits."
"We don't, as a rule, sir, give the names of sitters, without their express permission."
"This is one of the exceptions to the rule. Here is the portrait—who is the lady it represents?"
I handed him the photograph which I had taken off Edwin Lawrence's mantelshelf. So soon as he saw it he smiled; looking up at me with what was suspiciously like a twinkle in his eye.
"As you say, this is one of the exceptions to the rule. I certainly have no objection to tell you who this lady is; that is, if you don't know already. In which case I should imagine that
