Well, there's nothing more to be done to-night--with Milburgh." He looked at his watch.
"I'm going back to my flat, and afterwards to Hertford," he said.
He had made no definite plan as to what line he should pursue after he reached Hertford.

He had a dim notion that his investigation hereabouts might, if properly directed, lead him nearer to the heart of the mystery.
This pretty, faded woman who lived in such style, and whose husband was so seldom visible, might give him a key.

Somewhere it was in existence, that key, by which he could decipher the jumbled code of the Daffodil Murder, and it might as well be at Hertford as nearer at hand.
It was dark when he came to the home of Mrs.Rider, for this time he had dispensed with a cab, and had walked the long distance between the station and the house, desiring to avoid attention.

The dwelling stood on the main road.

It had a high wall frontage of about three hundred and fifty feet.