The Ashiel Mystery

He returned to his room, taking up and pocketing Lord Ashiel's envelope as he passed the little table by the door.

He did it mechanically, for his mind was occupied with a question which must be immediately decided.

Was it, or was it not, worth while to have the woman who had just left him followed and located, and her identity ascertained?

Gimblet disliked leaving small problems unsolved, however insignificant they appeared. On the whole, he thought he might as well find out who she was, and he turned back into the hall and called for Higgs.

If she were to be caught sight of again before leaving the house there was not a moment to lose. But Higgs did not reply, and on Gimblet's opening the pantry door he found it empty. Unknown to him, the moment the lady had departed Higgs had gone upstairs to the flat above to have a word with a friend.

The detective seized his hat and ran downstairs, but he was too late.

The widow lady, the porter told him, had gone away two or three minutes ago in the motor that had been waiting for her. No, he hadn't noticed the number of the car. Neither had he seen Higgs.

Gimblet shrugged his shoulders as he went upstairs again. After all, the matter was of no great consequence.

The widow was a cool hand, certainly, he thought, to come to him and propose he should steal for her what she wanted; but the fact of her having done so made it on the whole improbable that she was a thief, or she would not have had need of him. She was certainly a person of questionable principles, and it seemed likely that in one way or another a theft would be committed through her agency, if not by herself, as soon as the opportunity presented itself. She was, in fact, a woman on whom the police might do worse than keep an eye; but, reflected Gimblet, he was not the police, and the dishonesty of this scheming widow was really no concern of his. As he reached his door, a postman was leaving it, and two or three letters had been pushed through the flap. He let himself in and took them out of the box. They were not of great importance. A bill, an appeal for a subscription to some charity, a couple of advertisements and the catalogue of a sale of pictures in which he was interested. He turned over the leaves slowly, holding the pamphlet sideways from time to time to look at the photographs which illustrated some of the principal lots.