"You will see, as I told you before, Miss Delora," he said, "that there is no one here. Your uncle's rooms open out from the right. The bathroom is to the left there, and beyond are your apartments."
She peered into each of the rooms. They were indeed empty.
"The apartments are very nice," she said, "but I do not understand what has become of my uncle."
"He will be up in a few minutes, without a doubt," the clerk remarked. "Is there anything more that I can do for you, madam? Shall I send the chambermaid or the waiter to you?"
"Not yet," she answered. "I must wait for my uncle. Will you leave word below that he is to please come up directly he arrives?"
"Certainly, madam!" the clerk answered, turning towards the door.
I should have followed him from the room, but she stopped me.
"Please don't go," she said. "I am very foolish, I know, but I am afraid!"
"I will stay, of course," I answered, sitting down by her side upon the couch, "but let me assure you that there is nothing whatever to fear. Your uncle may have had a slight cab accident, or he may have met with a friend and stopped to talk for a few minutes. In either case he will be here directly. London, you know, is not the city of mysteries that Paris is. There is very little, indeed, that can happen to a man between Charing Cross Station and the Milan Hotel."
She leaned forward a little and buried her face in her hands.