A Silent Witness by R. Austin Freeman

Author:R. Austin Freeman [Freeman, R. Austin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Roy Glashan's Library
Published: 2014-11-16T23:00:00+00:00

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XIV — A LONELY WOMAN

IF I had had any intention of avoiding Mrs. Samway, that intention must inevitably have been frustrated, for her recognition was as instantaneous as my own. Almost as I turned the corner, she looked up and saw me; and a few moments later, she rose and advanced in my direction, so that, to an onlooker it would have appeared as if we had met by appointment. There was obviously nothing for it but to look as pleased as I could manage at such short notice; which I did, shaking her hand with hypocritical warmth. “And I suppose. Dr. Jardine,” said she, “you are thinking what a very odd coincidence it is that we should happen to meet here?”

“Oh, I don’t know that it is so very odd. I live about here and I understood you to say that you often come up to the Heath. At any rate, our last meeting was a good deal more odd.”

“Yes, indeed. But the truth is that this is not a coincidence at all. I may as well confess that I came here deliberately with the intention of waylaying you.”

This very frank statement took me aback considerably; so much so that I could think of no appropriate remark beyond mumbling something to the effect that “it was very flattering of her.”

“I have been trying,” she continued, “to get a few words with you for some time past; but, although I have lurked in your line of march in the most shameless manner, I have always managed to miss you. I thought, from what you told me, that you passed Robinson’s shop on your way to the hospital.”

“So I do,” I replied mendaciously; for I could hardly tell her that I had lately taken to shooting up bystreets with the express purpose of avoiding that particular stretch of pavement.

“It’s rather curious that I never happened to meet you there. However, I didn’t, so, to-day, I determined to take the bull by the horns and catch you here.”

This last statement, like the former ones, gave me abundant matter for reflection. How the deuce had she managed to “catch me here?” I supposed that she had seen Sylvia and me in the Hampstead Road and had guessed that we were coming on to this neighbourhood. That was a case of feminine intuition; which, like the bone-setter’s skill, is a wonderful thing—when it comes off (and when it doesn’t one isn’t expected to notice the fact). Then she had gone on ahead—still guessing at our final destination—and kept us in sight while keeping out of view herself. It was not so very easy to understand and not at all comfortable to think of, for there was a disagreeable suggestion that she had somehow ascertained Sylvia’s place of abode beforehand. And yet—well, the whole affair was rather mysterious. “You don’t ask why it was that I wanted to waylay you,” she said, at length, as I made no comment on her last statement.

“There is an old saying,” I replied, “that one shouldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.

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