But no information whatever was forthcoming.  It very rarely is under such circumstances, for a London landlady, compounded in general of craft and caution, tends naturally to reticence on the score of her former lodgers.  If she has parted with them on amicable terms, her instinct is to shield them against the menace presumed in every inquiry; if her mood is one of ill-will, she refuses information lest the departed should reap advantage.  And then, in the great majority of cases she has really no information to give.

The door closed with that severity of exclusion in which London doors excel, and Hilliard turned despondently away.  He was just consoling himself with the thought that Eve would probably, before long, communicate her new address to the friends at Dudley, and by that means he might hear of it, when a dirty-faced little girl, who had stood within earshot while he was talking, and who had followed him to the end of the street, approached him with an abrupt inquiry.

“Was you asking for Miss Madeley, Sir?”

“Yes, I was; do you know anything of her?”

“My mother did washing for her, and when she moved I had to take some things of hers to the new address.”

“Then you remember it?”

“It’s a goodish way from ’ere, Sir.  Shall I go with you?”

Hilliard understood.  Like the good Samaritan of old, he took out twopence.  The face of the dirty little girl brightened wonderfully.

“Tell me the address; that will be enough.”

“Do you know Gower Place, Sir?”

“Somewhere near Gower Street, I suppose?”

His supposition was confirmed, and he learnt the number of the house to which Miss Madeley had transferred herself.  In that direction he at once bent his steps.

Gower Place is in the close neighbourhood of Euston Road; Hilliard remembered that he had passed the end of it on his first arrival in London, when he set forth from Euston Station to look for a lodging.  It was a mere chance that he had not turned into this very street, instead of going further.  Several windows displayed lodging-cards.  On the whole, it looked a better locality than Belmont Street.  Eve’s removal hither might signify an improvement of circumstances.

The house which he sought had a clean doorstep and unusually bright windows.  His knock was answered quickly, and by a young, sprightly woman, who smiled upon him.

“I believe Miss Madeley lives here?”

“Yes, she does.”

“She is not at home just now?”

“No.  She went out after breakfast, and I’m sure I can’t say when she’ll be back.”

Hilliard felt a slight wonder at this uncertainty.  The young woman, observing his expression, added with vivacious friendliness: 

“Do you want to see her on business?”

“No; a private matter.”

This occasioned a smirk.

“Well, she hasn’t any regular hours at present.  Sometimes she comes to dinner, sometimes she doesn’t.  Sometimes she comes to tea, but just as often she isn’t ’ome till late.  P’r’aps you’d like to leave your name?”