“There’s no occasion to be frightened now,” retorted Miss Marvell, “and the sooner you try and be truthful about the whole matter, the better it will be for all of us.”
And the stern woman’s lips closed with a snap, as she deliberately turned her back on Miss Fay and began turning over the leaves of a magazine which happened to be on a table close to her hand.
I muttered a few words of encouragement, for the little actress looked ready to cry. I spoke as kindly as I could, telling her that if indeed she could throw some light on Mr. Marvell’s present whereabouts it was her duty to be quite frank on the subject.
She “hem”-ed and “ha”-ed for awhile, and her simpering ways were just beginning to tell on my nerves, when she suddenly started talking very fast.
“I am principal boy at the Grand,” she explained with great volubility; “and I knew Mr. Leonard Marvell well—in fact—er—he paid me a good deal of attention and——”
“Yes—and——?” I queried, for the girl was obviously nervous.
There was a pause. Miss Fay began to cry.
“And it seems that my brother took this young—er—lady to supper on the night of February 3rd, after which no one has ever seen or heard of him again,” here interposed Miss Marvell, quietly.
“Is that so?” I asked.
Lulu Fay nodded, whilst heavy tears fell upon her clasped hands.