"You're late," he said, speaking lightly. "Had a pleasant evening, I hope?"
Blair sank into a chair, and his head drooped upon his breast; then he looked up and motioned to the table, on which stood a liqueur stand.
"Mix me something—anything, there's a good fellow," and his voice was dry and hoarse. "A pleasant evening," he laughed grimly, "you shall judge for yourself. Austin, I have seen Lottie Belvoir!"
Austin Ambrose started, and he set the glass down with a little thud. Then he smiled.
"Not really!"
"Yes. I was right, and you were wrong; it was she whom I saw. Poor girl! Lottie—who used to be the brightest and gayest of them—in Naples, starving and in rags."
"It is very strange! The last I heard of her," said Austin, his face pale with suppressed excitement and fear, "she was traveling with a dramatic company. Did she tell you——"
"She would tell me very little or nothing," said Blair with a sigh.
Austin Ambrose drew a long breath. Lottie had stood firm, then!