“Away from the station. The lane where she was found is a good mile away from it. To return to the handbag—in a side pocket there was a broken mirror and apparently nothing else, but the constable who was handling it cut his finger on the glass and thought he’d better empty the bits out. He found that scrap of paper amongst them.”
There was a moment’s silence. Miss Silver took up her knitting again.
Frank Abbott went on. If she wanted to say anything she would say it. If she didn’t want to say anything, it was no use waiting. He knew his Miss Silver.
“The bits of words on the paper suggested you, even before I saw the handwriting. Lamb told me to come round and see you.”
Miss Silver inclined her head.
“I hope that Chief Detective Inspector Lamb is well?”
Frank had a momentary picture
