“Unfortunately,” said the solicitor, “we are obliged to leave to-day, or it would have given me the greatest pleasure.”
“What a mistake to leave just when we are all such a nice, congenial party,” said the American. “Is Miss Ewart really fit to go? She looked so white and ill when I saw her yesterday.”
“She has been travelling about in Switzerland some time,” said Sir Matthew, “and will, I think, be glad to settle down at home.”
“I can understand that,” said Miss Upton. “I don’t think the hotel life was quite congenial to her. Now, we Americans are brought up to live in public from our childhood, it’s second nature to us, and we are accustomed to so much more liberty than you allow your girls. I suppose though your English girls are much more tractable and obedient than we are.”
Sir Matthew winced.
“Comparisons are odious,” said Bruce Wylie, with ready politeness, and after a very scanty breakfast the two men retired discomforted, while Dick Lewisham and the bright-eyed American enjoyed a quiet laugh at their expense.
To get any clue as to Evereld’s movements seemed impossible, and Sir Matthew did not care to put the matter into the hands of the police, or to employ a private detective. In his own mind he felt convinced that Evereld had gone to England, and he travelled home with the utmost speed, having first telegraphed to his confidential clerk to meet him at Victoria by the boat train on the following afternoon.
“All well I hope, sir,” said Smither, the clerk, as Sir Matthew gave him a pleasant greeting.
“Quite, thank you; did you get that address?”
“Yes, sir,” and the clerk handed him a paper. “Da Costa the agent gave it me.”