ming, but
I've seen nothing of her as yet."

"You've changed your address, you know," Quest reminded her, after a
moment's reflection.

"I wrote and told her," Mrs. Willet began. "After all, though," she went
on thoughtfully, "I am not sure whether she could have had the letter. But
if she went up to Hampstead, any one would tell her where I had moved to.
There's no secret about me."

"Lenora did go up to 157 Elsmere Road yesterday," Quest told her. "They
gave her your address here, as they have just given it to me."

"Then what's become of the child?" Mrs. Willet demanded.

Quest, whose brain was working quickly, scribbled upon one of his cards
the address of the hotel where he had taken rooms, and passed it over.

"Why Lenora didn't come on to you here I can't imagine," he said.
"However, I'll go back to the hotel where she was to spend the night after
she arrived. She may have gone back there. That's my address, Mrs. Willet.
If you hear anything, I wish you'd let me know. Lenora's quite a
particular friend of mine and I am a little anxious."

Mrs. Willet smiled knowingly.

"I'll let you know certainly, sir," she promised, "and glad I shall be to
hear of Lenora's being comfortably settled, after that first unfortunate
affair of hers. You'll excuse me a moment. I'm a little slower in my wits
than you. Did you say that Lenora was at Hampstead yesterday afternoon and
they told her my address?"

"That's so," Quest admitted.

The woman's face grew troubled.

"I don't like it," she said simply.

"Neither do I," Quest agreed.

"London's no place, nowadays," Mrs. Willet continued, "for girls as pretty
as Lenora to be wandering about in. Such tales as there have been lately
in the Sunday papers as makes one's blood run cold if one can believe them
all."

"You don't have any--what we call the White Slave Traffic--over here, do
you?" Quest asked quickly.

"I can't say that I've ever come across any case of it myself, sir," the
old lady replied. "I was housekeeper to the Duke of Merioneth for fifty
years, and where we lived we didn't hear much about London and London
ways. You see, I never came to the town house. But since I retired and
came up here, and took to reading the Sunday papers, I begin to be
thankful that my ways have been country ways all my life."

"No need to alarm ourselves, I'm sure," Quest intervened, making his way
towards the door. "Lenora is a particularly capable young lady. I feel
sure s