His obvious embarrassment seemed to restore the girl’s balance. “Mr. Caruth?” she inquired, with a slight movement of her head.
Caruth nodded. For the moment he was beyond words. Her soft, musical voice and air of refinement impressed him, despite the unconventionality of her presence in his rooms at that time of the night, and his attitude became even more respectful. “Yes,” he stammered; “I am Mr. Caruth. What can I do for you?”
“I am Miss Fitzhugh. I have come four thousand miles to talk with you, Mr. Caruth. Your valet was kind enough to let me wait, though he was clearly horrified by my desiring to do so. Will you not sit down?”
Caruth hesitated. Of medium build, clean-shaven, correctly dressed, he might have stepped out of a Gibson drawing. Every detail was present, even to the strong chin and the firm mouth.
“It is late,” he suggested, glancing at the clock, the hands of which stood straight upward. “I am at your service, of course, but perhaps to-morrow——”
The girl smiled, a trifle wearily. “One does not come four thousand miles for a trifle,” she answered. “The convenances must yield to necessity. I must talk with you to-night.”
Caruth bowed and seated himself across the centre table from her. Though his surprise had not abated, he was rapidly regaining his self-possession, and as the girl resumed her own chair, he leaned forward a little, studying her thoughtfully, noting the anxious lines about her youthful eyes and mouth.
Although her English had been excellent, she did not impress him as being of American nor yet of English birth. An alien air clung intangibly about her and about her costume, which, even to his masculine intelligence, bespoke the work of a dress-maker of more than ordinary skill.
She was plainly a lady. Had it not been too amazing, he would have guessed that she must be a person of distinction in her own land—wherever that might be. That she was beautiful seemed somehow not surprising; that she was very young did. What could such a woman be doing alone in his bachelor rooms at that hour of the night.
Disguising his wonder, he sought to carry off the situation. “You are tired?” he questioned gently. “I’m afraid I kept you waiting a long time. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Can’t I offer you something to eat or drink, Miss Fitzhugh?”