“I have always longed to go to Italy,” I said. “And especially to Florence. Didn’t you enjoy it very much there?”
“Indeed I did, Miss Beddingfeld. If you will excuse me, there is some correspondence of Sir Eustace’s that——”
I took hold of him firmly by his coat sleeve.
“Oh, you mustn’t run away!” I cried with the skittish accent of an elderly dowager. “I’m sure Sir Eustace wouldn’t like you to leave me alone with no one to talk to. You never seem to want to talk about Florence. Oh, Mr. Pagett, I believe you have a guilty secret!”
I still had my hand on his arm, and I could feel the sudden start he gave.
“Not at all, Miss Beddingfeld, not at all,” he said earnestly. “I should be only too delighted to tell you all about it, but there really are some cables——”
“Oh, Mr. Pagett, what a thin pretence. I shall tell Sir Eustace——”
I got no further. He gave another jump. The man’s nerves seemed in a shocking state.
“What is it you want to know?”
The resigned martyrdom of his tone made me smile inwardly.