CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTMiss Silver looked up from her copybook with an air of bright helpfulness.
“Ah yes—to be sure. I have some information for you, Captain Cunningham. I have not seen you since it came in.”
“Yes?” said Henry.
Miss Silver leaned across the table and picked up the half finished infant’s coatee and the ball of pale blue wool. Then she sat back in her chair and began to knit.
“Yes,” she said. “I put a small advertisement in the paper. It is so fortunate that Mrs. Mercer should have had an uncommon name like Anketell. One could feel practically sure that there would not be more than one Louisa Kezia Anketell, or at least not more than one in the same generation. These peculiar names generally run in a family. My own second name is Hephzibah—most unsuitable with Maud, but th
