“Oh! At your uncle's?”
“No,” said Paul bluntly; “in the next house.”
“Why, that's Sir William's—our host's—and he and his family are here in London. You are joking.”
“Listen!” said Paul desperately. Then in a voice unconsciously lowered he hurriedly told her where he was—how he came there—the empty house—the viewless company! To his surprise the only response was a musical little laugh. But the next moment her voice rose higher with an unmistakable concern in it, apparently addressing their invisible host.
“Oh, Sir William, only think how dreadful. Here's poor Mr. Bunker, alone in an empty house, which he has mistaken for his uncle's—and without any dinner!”
“Really; dear, dear! How provoking! But how does he happen to be WITH US? James, how is this?”
“If you please, Sir William,” said a servant's respectful voice, “Widdlestone is in the circuit and is switched on with the others. We heard that a gentleman's luggage had arrived at Widdlestone, and we telegraphed for the rooms to be made ready, thinking we'd have her ladyship's orders later.”
A single gleam of intelligence flashed upon Paul. His luggage—yes, had been sent from the station to the wrong house, and he had unwittingly followed. But these voices! whence did they come? And where was the actual dinner at which his host was presiding? It clearly was not at this empty table.
“See that he has everything he wants at once,” said Sir William; “there must be some one there.” Then his voice turned in the direction of Paul again, and he said laughingly, “Possess your soul and appetite in patience for a moment, Mr. Bunker; you will be only a course behind us. But we are lucky in having your company—even at your own discomfort.”
Still more bewildered, Paul turned to his invisible partner. “May I ask where YOU are dining?”