“New York City.”
“What address?”
“Plaza Hotel.”
By this time the strange dark eyes had done their work. A steady glance from Anita Austin seemed to compel all the world to do her bidding. At any rate, Mrs. Adams took the suitcase, and without a further word conducted the stranger upstairs.
She took her into an attractive bedroom, presumably made ready for the absent Letty.
“This will do,” Miss Austin said, calmly. “Will you send me up a tray of supper? I don’t want much, and I prefer not to come down to dinner.”
“Land sake, dinner’s over long ago. You want some tea, ’n’ bread, ’n’ butter, ’n’ preserves, ’n’ cake?”
“Yes, thank you, that sounds good. Send it in half an hour.”
To her guest Mrs. Adams showed merely a face of acquiescence, but once outside the door, and released from the spell of those eerie eyes, she remarked to herself, “For the land sake!” with great emphasis.
“Well, what do you know about that!” Old Salt Adams cried, when, after she had started him on his supper, his wife related the episode.