The Baron, her uncle, came here one day and took her away suddenly — abroad, I think."
"Had she no school-friend to whom she could probably write?"
"There was a girl named Leithcourt — Muriel Leithcourt — who was her friend, but who has also left."
"And no one else?" I asked. "Girls often write to each other after leaving school, until they get married, and then the correspondence usually ceases."
The principal was silent and reflective.
"Well," she said at last, "there was another pupil who was also on friendly terms with Elma — a girl named Lydia Moreton. She may have written to her. If you really desire to know, sir, I daresay I could find her address. She left us about nine months after Elma."
"I should esteem it a great favour if you would give me that young lady's address," I said, whereupon she unlocked a drawer in her writing-table and took therefrom a thick, leather-bound book which she consulted for a few minutes, at last exclaiming —
"Yes, here it is — 'Lydia Moreton, daughter of Sir Hamilton Moreton. K.C.M.G., Whiston Grange, Doncaster.'" And she scribbled it in pencil upon an envelope, and handing it to me said —
"Elma Heath was, I fear, somewhat neglected by her parents. She remained here for five years and had no holidays like the other girls. Her uncle, the Baron, came to see her several times, but on each
