"With his consent our reporter then took the woman aside.
"'Tell me now what I can do for you,' he asked.
"'You will find my address on a card in my purse,' she replied. 'It is a long distance, two or three miles, think----'
"'You need not knock or ring at the street door; the key I gave you will open it. But the passage will be dark when you enter it.'
"'I have matches with me. I shall find my way all right.'
"'Our rooms are on the first floor. My daughter will be awake. Do not alarm her by knocking loudly on the door.'
"'I do not know what you will say to her at first. A stranger--and at this late hour of the night----'
"'Do not agitate yourself. I will use my best skill and all my kindness to assure her that I come as a friend.'
"'I am sure you will, I am sure you will,' said the woman, taking his hand and kissing it. 'Heaven has been good to me to send me such a friend!'
"'Look at it in that light. What shall I say to your daughter after her first surprise is over? Do you not think you had better give me a few lines to her?'
"He had no difficulty in obtaining permission, and was supplied with a sheet of note-paper and an envelope. Then the woman wrote:
"'My Darling Child,--The gentleman who brings this is a friend, a true friend, and I send this note by his hand to allay your fears at my absence. I cannot explain now why I do not come home to-night, but I will do so to-morrow when I return. Do not expect me till the afternoon, and do not be in the least alarmed about me. All is well, and there is hope in the future. God bless you, my darling. With fondest love,
"She gave the note to our reporter to read, and then put it in the envelope. On the envelope she wrote simply the name, 'Constance.'
"'She will be certain to question me,' said our reporter.
"'You have only to tell her that I desired you to say nothing, and that I wished to have the pleasure myself of communicating good news to her upon my return to-morrow. That will satisfy her. She loves me, has faith in me. Good news! Alas, alas!'
"'Keep up your courage. They will treat you kindly here for my sake, and you will see me in the morning. The few hours will soon pass.'
"Feeling that it would be useless to prolong the interview, and anxious to go upon his errand, our reporter bade her good-night with a friendly pressure of the hand, commended her to the care of the kind Inspector, and left the station. He walked a little way into the Strand before he stopped to look at the card in the woman's purse; had he done so in Bow Street, a policeman might have seen him and reported the action, as he had just left the police station. By the light of a street lamp he read the address, 21 Forston Street, Kentish Town. There was no name on the card, but as there was no other writing in the purse he knew that this must be the address to which he was to go. He hailed a cab, and bade the man drive quickly.