"And he gave you something handsome for it — eh?"
The young woman, whom I knew could not refuse half-a-sovereign, coloured slightly and smiled.
"And who put that picture in its place?" I asked.
"I did, sir. I found it upstairs."
"He didn't tell you who the young lady was, I suppose?"
"No, sir. He only said that that was the only photograph that existed, and that she was dead."
"Dead!" I gasped, staring at her.
"Yes, sir. That was why he was so anxious for the picture."
Elma Heath dead! Could it be true? That sweet-pictured face haunted me as no other face had ever impressed itself upon my memory. It somehow seemed to impel me to endeavour to penetrate the mystery, and yet Hylton Chater had declared that she was dead!
I recollected the remarkable letter from Abo, and her own declaration that her end was near. That letter was, she said, the last she should write to her friend.
Did Hylton Chater actually possess knowledge of the girl's death? Had he all along been acquainted with her whereabouts?
What the young woman told me upset all my plans. If Elma Heath were really dead, then she was beyond discovery, and the truth would be hidden for ever.
"After he had put the photograph in his pocket,
