Red Széll

The estates went, as you may remember, in the male line.

She was left with limited means, but with some very remarkable old Spanish jewellery of silver and curiously cut diamonds to which she was fondly attached.

Too attached, for she refused to leave them with her banker and always carried them about with her.

A rather pathetic figure, the Lady Frances, a beautiful woman still in fresh middle age, and yet, by a strange change, the last derelict of what only 20 years ago was a goodly fleet.

What has happened to her then?

Ah, what has happened to the Lady Frances?

Is she alive or dead?

There is our problem.

She is a lady of precise habits, and for four years it has been her invariable custom to write every second week to Miss Dobney, her old governess, who has long retired and lives in Camberwell.

It is this Miss Dobney who has consulted me.

Nearly five weeks have passed without a word.

The last letter was from the Hôtel National at Lausanne.

Lady Frances seems to have left there and given no address.

The family are anxious, and as they are exceedingly wealthy, no sum will be spared if we can clear the matter up.

Is Miss Dobney the only source of information?

Surely she had other correspondence.

There is one correspondent who is a sure draw, Watson.

That is the bank.

Single ladies must live, and their passbooks are compressed diaries.

She banks at Sylvester's.