Then, one day,--this was twelve years ago,--I had a telegram from the superintendent of a public hospital at Utica that Edna was there very ill.

She died before I got there.

Just how she came to be in that particular place I have no idea.
The hospital authorities knew nothing except that she had gone to them, apparently from the train, seriously ill.

The little girl was with her.
She asked them to send for me, but told them nothing of herself.

She had only hand baggage and it told us nothing as to her home if she had one, or where she was going.